Dark Whispers
by RoninJedi
Summary: Set in the universe of KotoR, quasi-Jedi Kenneth Aeris finds himself pulled into the clutches of the beast he thought he had escaped. Set 300 years after the end of KotoR 2. Rated for violence and some language. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**ONE**

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..._

_It is a time of relative peace for the Republic. Recovery from the Jedi Civil War nearly three centuries before is progressing well, and the Senate has agreed that expansion is now warranted. Dozens of star systems have already joined the coalition and countless others wait anxiously in the wings. However, not all such transitions have been peaceful. Pockets of resistance have broken out in several systems, and thousands have been injured or killed as a result._

_In an attempt to restore order and safety in the afflicted systems, Supreme Chancellor Rolfe Creigan has requested the assistance of the Jedi Order. Hundreds of Jedi Knights are now spread across the galaxy, serving as arbitrators and security forces, leaving only a handful of Jedi within the Temple on Coruscant to oversee the training of students and daily agenda of the Order._

_Meanwhile, across the galaxy on the desert planet of Korriban, a new Dark Lord of the Sith has come to power. Ruling over the Sith unquestioned, he has reopened the Sith Academy, and the number of students reaches into the hundreds. With the Jedi spread so thin, he sees his opportunity to destroy the Order._

_Far from the goings on of the Sith and Jedi is Kenneth Aeris, a young man trained in the ways of the Force but haunted by his past, finally returning to his home planet of Marcellus Prime after an absence of more than five years. Unknown to Kenneth, he is about to encounter a series of events that will catapult him into the grasp of the one thing he fears above all else..._

Finally, he was returning home. After years of doing what he thought was the right thing, and the subsequent flight after discovering it wasn't, Kenneth Aeris had finally made the decision to return to his home world and live out a quiet, simple life far from the troubles he had spent so long trying to outrun. His dark hair hung loosely about his dirt-ridden face, his tattered tunic and robe barely clinging to his flesh, yet he felt refreshed with a strange sense of peace. Looking around the cramped cargo hold, staring at the stacks of crates and cylinders kept in place by thick bands of rope, the cold metal walls barely illuminated by thin strips of yellowish lights, already he was beginning to feel at ease. Sighing as he took in the scene, a smile crossed his thin lips as he recalled the deception he had employed to secure his final passage, and the chuckle he forced away bordered on shameful.

Tatooine was a desert planet, much like his own, located beyond the limits of the Republic's territory, and had for untold years been a well established haven for pirates, smugglers, and mercenaries. It was there in the settlement of Mos Espa, in a small cantina where he had traded a tarnished brass ring for a glass of Jawa Juice, that he had heard mention of his home planet by three men sitting at a table behind him. Listening intently, it hadn't taken long for him to learn the three were part of a small band of smugglers whose current shipment of spice had them en route to Marcellus Prime.

Kenneth had waited patiently then, biding his time until the men finally drained their glasses made their way into the crowded streets. He had followed them, pulling the hood of his robe over his head to block the blinding sun as he walked several paces behind them, careful to blend in with the masses as the trio weaved through the crammed streets, finally coming to a small platform just outside the walls of the settlement. Taking cover behind several stacks of crates, he had slowly made his way toward the ship, a small freighter he guessed to be of Corellian manufacture. Reaching out with the Force to topple one of the towering stacks of cargo, he had seized the opportunity to slip aboard the vessel unnoticed in the commotion. Quickly making his way into the cargo bay, he had wedged himself behind a cluster of plasteel containers, and the wait had begun.

Sitting there now, three days later, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his data pad. The screen flashed to life and Kenneth winced against the sudden flare, his muted scowl quickly replaced with a smile as he estimated the remainder of his journey to be just under twelve hours. Replacing the device in the pocket of his tunic, he sighed as he stretched his legs as far as the cramped quarters would allow and nestled his head against the cold steel wall, closing his eyes as he searched for rest.

Suddenly Kenneth found himself shaken as the ship lurched violently, accompanied by the sound of a muffled explosion and screeching metal. Jumping to his feet, his senses were immediately heightened and his hand went instinctively to the warm metal handle of the ancient weapon on his belt. Seconds later, a voice sounded over the freighter's intercom system.

"Jarec! Screel! Get up here! We've got a battle cruiser on our tail trying to dock with us! Probably some damn Rodians! Get your..."

The ship gave one more sudden lurch and the intercom went silent.

Kenneth stood there for a moment, breathing deeply as he struggled to calm himself, his mind racing as that unmistakable metallic clamp echoed through the hull of the ship. Moments later he the distant sounds of blaster fire and men shouting. His sweaty palms firmed their grip on the handle as he activated his lightsaber with a sharp _snap-hiss_, its brilliant blue blade illuminating the darkened cargo hold, casing his angled face in shadow as he closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain calm. He knew the freighter held no hope of escape. While there were certainly a number of hidden compartments which would allow him to avoid detection, he knew as well most smugglers and mercenaries modified their ships for speed and firepower should they be caught in a fight, thus it was rare for such a vessel to house even a single escape pod.

Anger swept through him. After all this time spent scraping out an existence, after the endless struggles, at last he had come within mere hours of a real home and finding something akin to a normal life. After leaving home at the age of seventeen and spending the next five years traveling the galaxy, enduring people and events which still gave him nightmares; the normality he had craved for so long had come within his grasp. Now, all of that could be tripped away within minutes; his hopes, his dreams, his very life.

_No_, he told himself silently. _I'm not going to let them stand in my way. I have no intention of being trapped here today._

A sudden flash of lucidity washed over his mind, and the thought occurred to him that a battle cruiser, easily twice the size of the smugglers' vessel, would most likely contain a hangar bay. Kenneth began to formulate a plan, though he was reluctant to follow the thought because of the incredible risk it involved. Still, he knew there was no other option open to him. He would either escape from this freighter, or die in the attempt. There was nothing for it.

Tightening his grip on the lightsaber, he opened the cargo bay door and stepped cautiously into the main hull of the ship, and into the carnage he was certain he would find.

He moved slowly, stretching out with the Force as far as he could manage, straining his every sense as he made his way slowly through the cramped corridors, hoping he would be able to avoid a fight even as the sounds of battle taunted him at every turn. He struggled to remain calm as he inched his way forward, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as he approached the end of the corridor. He came to a halt, pressing himself against the wall and carefully peering around the corner. Seeing only another empty corridor, he went on, moving toward the starboard side of the ship, all the while hoping to find the docking hatch before he found one of the fighters.

As if on cue, a door opened to his left and Kenneth found himself face to face with one of the human smugglers, fear etched onto his blood-splattered face which was only accentuated by the surprise reflected in his eyes at coming upon Kenneth. The young man reacted on fear and instinct, taken completely by surprise at the man's sudden appearance. The smuggler was unable even to blink before Kenneth swung wildly with his lightsaber, the glowing blade slicing through the man's torso diagonally, searing veins and vessels closed as it cut through flesh and bone in the blink of an eye. Kenneth took a quick step back, ready to strike again as the lifeless heap crumpled to the floor. Seconds felt like hours as he stared at the hapless corpse, chiding himself for the lapse of concentration. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, but even as he tried to regain his composure, a wave of nausea swept through him and the familiar whispers had already begun. Hideous echos assaulted him from somewhere in the back of his mind, yet penetrating his subconscious with such clarity they seemed to be spoken only inches from his ears.

-_Do not shy away from it, young one. Your training, your instincts have made you powerful... dangerous. You were prepared for battle. He was not. Do not fault yourself for the failings of another. It is the natural order of things that the strong shall thrive while the weak perish.-_

Why do you torment me?" He screamed to no one as he deactivated his weapon, letting it clatter to the floor as he slumped to one knee, clasping his head with both hands.

_-It is not your torment I seek, but your fulfillment. You are tormented because you refuse to accept the truth. Your resistance brings you nothing but pain, young fool.-_

_-You could kill them. You could kill all of them. You could bend them to your will and have them carry out your every wish. The entire galaxy could be yours for the taking. I can give you that power. Why do you refuse?-_

Kenneth didn't answer, retreating deep within himself and breaking through his fear and aggression, seizing his emotions and walling them away. It was over within seconds, but he sat there in silence for several minutes as the sounds of battle continued around him. Finally, a sigh of relief escaped his lips as the crippling nausea seemed to be swept away and the merciless whispers quickly faded to nothing. He stood slowly, calling his weapon to his hand and steeling himself as he walked past the still twitching corpse of the smuggler and continued to make his way toward his only chance of escape.

In short order he came upon the starboard docking bay, both relieved and disheartened by what he found there. The room was empty, save for two dead Rodians sprawled on the floor with scorched blaster wounds covering their bodies. Unfortunately, it seemed the battle had spilled over into the attacking battle cruiser, destroying the little hope Kenneth had held that he might slip into it without incident. He moved quickly to the hatch, crouching and moving through the connected walkway as quietly as he could, stopping once more to stretch his senses into the cruiser's docking bay, and nervously caressed the activation switch of his lightsaber as blaster bolts whizzed through the air just a few feet away.

He took in the scene quickly, his mind racing as he sensed the two remaining humans fire from behind the poor cover of raised floor panels. On the other side of the bay were Rodians, seven of them, and they clearly had the advantage as they made their stand at the end of a winding corridor, hidden almost completely from the view of the humans as they fired blindly around the walls of the passage.

Kenneth sighed in frustration. In their frenzied state, there was no doubt that the humans wold fire the moment they saw him, and the Rodians were tucked away within the corridor, too far away to attack without putting himself directly in the sights of the smuggler's blasters. He pounded his fist in anger, and the defenses he had so carefully put into place just minutes before melted away, and a tear rolled down his cheek as his stubborn resolve gave way to utter despair. In that moment of emotional weakness, the whispers filled his mind once more.

_-I told you there was no escape, boy. Your stubborn resolve is commendable, but ultimately futile.-_

Kenneth scrambled to take control, but he knew it was too late. Powerless to do anything but listen, he slowly stood.

_-You have come so far, boy. The life you so desperately crave is within reach, and they are all that stands in your way. Are you truly willing to stand aside, to lay down and die because your fear prevents you from acting? I think not. You know what you must do. Come, I will help you.-_

Kenneth lost himself then, and suddenly he was falling into the gaping maw of some nameless abyss, screaming with all he could muster yet hearing no sound. Darkness surround him as he descended into the welcoming pit. He watched in horror, no longer in control, as the weapon in his hand was ignited and he sprang into the bay with a beast's roar. The two humans were cut down in less than a second, each barely registering his presence before his blade removed their heads. The Rodians heard the screams and came into the bay to look on in horror, scrambling to bring their weapons to bear and unleash a volley of blaster bolts upon the intruder. Dozens of bolts flew through the air, and Kenneth heard himself laugh as each of them was deflected by his blade with frightening precision. His heart sank when he felt his smile widen and he called upon the Force, focusing on one projectile and sending it directly into the eye of an attacker. Shocked into action by the falling body of his comrade, one of the Rodians charged into the bay with a shout. The young Jedi snarled as he held out his hand, lashing out at the alien with the Force and lifting him several feet off the ground. Sinister laughter rang out through the docking bay as the Rodian was shaken like a child's doll before his neck was mercifully crushed and he was dropped to the floor in a lifeless heap as Kenneth released his hold.

The five remaining aliens quickly turned and ran, closing the blast door which separated the docking bay from the rest of the ship. A mechanical whirring sounded from somewhere behind him, and even in his rage-driven state Kenneth realized they meant to break free of the smaller vessel and open the docking hatch, allowing him to be sucked into the vacuum of space. He reacted instantly, moving faster than any normal individual could, piercing the outer edge of the blast door with his lightsaber and quickly beginning to cut through it.

On the other side, he could hear the frantic voices of his prey as they called to each other in their native tongue, their shouts becoming louder as the blade came closer to the completion of its task. Suddenly Kenneth felt the room changing, a wave of absolute loathing rushing through him as he felt the balance of pressure within the bay disintegrate, chancing only a glance at the hatch which had now begun to open.

Deactivating his weapon and quickly placing it on his belt, he squared himself to the blast door and closed his eyes, consciously drawing on the Dark Side now, the inherent power of his emotions exploding within as he let them come. He unleashed his power in a furious wave that sent the barrier flying away from him, crushing two of the aliens as it crashed into the opposite wall.

A buzzing alarm sounded then, a warning that the hull's internal pressure had been compromised. Kenneth stopped long enough to look on the mangled bodies of his most recent victims before moving toward the cockpit, smiling as the alarm went silent and he heard the docking hatch slowly close.

He took a moment and stretched out with the Force once more, feeling for the location of the three remaining Rodians. He found them quickly, huddled together inside the cruiser's cockpit. He felt their fear, an overwhelming terror that radiated from them like ripples across a pond. That fear drove him now, pushing him toward the pirates and the punishment he would unleash upon them for their interference of his return home.

Within seconds he stood before the open cockpit, his eyes narrowed in anger despite the contradiction of the smile he bore as he watched the trio cower before him. Each of them still held their blasters firmly, yet he felt none of them retained the courage or determination to employ them. As he stepped into the cockpit, one of the Rodians inhaled deeply, erecting himself and puffing out his chest in a pathetic attempt to make himself appear formidable as he took a step toward Kenneth. He addressed the Jedi in a raspy, high pitched voice.

"I am Captain Norn Qu and you are aboard my ship, _The Seiker_. Who are you and what do you want?"

Kenneth stared at the captain in silence. He reached for his lightsaber, but paused. Suddenly the fog seemed to lift from his mind and he breathed a sigh of relief. The captain must have noticed the change in Kenneth's eyes, as he took a step backward, clearly confused. The alien shook his head and straightened himself, repeating his question in a somewhat firmer tone.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

Kenneth blinked rapidly before his eyes locked with the captain's. His gaze lingered for only a moment before dropping to the floor as his shoulders slumped, much like a child ashamed of the discipline he's received. His reply was barely above a whisper.

"I just want to go home."

Norn Qu's head cocked to onside, clearly unsure what to make of the Jedi's comment. The two crewmen behind him began to move forward, but a sharp glance from the captain stopped them. He turned to face Kenneth once more and took a step forward.

"I don't understand."

Kenneth barely registered his voice. He was wracked with anger and an overwhelming sense of disappointment and shame. It had been a long time he had faced such an onslaught and failed. The whispers were persistent, almost seductive, yet he had not fallen under the spell for nearly five years. Not since...

He pushed the thought away and closed his eyes against the tears he felt welling up as he spoke softly. "I just want to go home."

_-And yet you let them stand in your way. Do you think they will simply allow you to leave? After the damage you've caused and the lives you've taken? They would sooner cut out their own tongues! You will not be allowed to leave this ship alive, boy, and you know it. You will never be allowed to set foot on your home world. Why should you stop now and let it be so, when there are only three of them left? You can end this now and be on your way. You know I will give you the power to do so. Let go, boy, and let me help you.-_

Kenneth didn't bother trying to resist. He knew he was defeated, and accepted it. He let the waves of anger and shame come, drawing on his own fear and that of the Rodians. He allowed the Dark Side to fill him, to sweep him up and carry him away like a feather on a breeze. He extended his hand toward Norn Qu, a tear streaming down his face as he unleashed a torrent of lightning upon them, shielding his eyes from the gruesome end he forced upon the victims.

_Soon I'll be home, and this will be nothing more than another nightmare_, he thought to himself.

Then the darkness welled up within him as his anger swelled anew, and he thought no more.


	2. Chapter 2

The man-made beauty that was Coruscant was a wonder to behold. Essentially one unimaginably large city, when the suns disappeared from view, the night sky was illuminated by the florescent light of hundreds of thousands of buildings and speeders whipping through the air in a breathtaking kaleidoscopic display of luminescence. The capital of the Republic was nothing short of a technological miracle, yet Braya Star paid no heed to its towering structures and inherent magnificence as she made her way through the Jedi Temple.

Her eyes were hard and focused as she walked the marbled halls, her dark hair swaying gently in a tight ponytail as she moved, echoing the soft billowing motion of her robes about her slender form. Her pace was brisk and purposeful, and the few she passed in the corridors apparently took notice as none moved to speak with her, but simply offered nodded greetings. Some seemed to ignore her presence entirely, not giving even a glance in her direction. Considering the summons she had received just minutes earlier, she thought it just as well.

She had been alone in her quarters, worn mentally and physically by yet another day of mundane routine involving training, meditation, and incessant conversations with herself as to why she should be confined to the halls of the Temple instead of out in the galaxy lending her skills where they were needed during such a pivotal time for the Republic. She quelled the thoughts quickly enough, of course. Pride was at the root of such inclinations, and pride, as the saying went, always comes before the fall. In the history of the Jedi Order, that statement had proven true enough, and so she pushed the matter away and prepared to retire. Braya had finished bathing and was just pulling on a loose fitting tunic when there was a faint knock at the door. Before she could give a response, the door slid open and T-64A, one of the Temple's many protocol droids, stepped inside.

"Please forgive the intrusion, Master Braya," the synthesized female voice had said. "I have been asked to inform you that Master Windrunner wishes to speak with you."

Braya's brow arched in curiosity as she had the droid. "Master Windrunner? Why?"

The droid straightened, almost nervously. "I'm afraid I don't know. I was asked only to deliver the message. He awaits you in the Council chambers."

Braya had nodded with a sigh. If a Council member sought her presence at such an odd hour, whatever she was to be told or asked was important enough to be done in person. She turned to a small table in the corner of the modest room where she had laid out her robes.

"May I inform him of your acceptance?" The droid's question hung on the air for several moments.

"Yes. Thank you," she answered as she began pulling on her robes. A moment later she heard the door open and close once more. She pulled her long dark hair into a tight ponytail and picked up her lightsaber. She held it in her hand, gazing at the dull metal blade and thinking back on her life within the Order.

Braya Star had been born on Coruscant, and like most Jedi Knights throughout their history, she had been selected at birth to join their ranks. Her midichlorian wile slightly above average at just over twelve thousand, was nothing spectacular, yet as a student she had progressed more quickly than most. One attribute which caused her to stand out from her fellow students was her determination. From the beginning, she had displayed a focused intensity rarely seen in a child. As a general rule, Younglings were taught only the most basic dimensions of the Force, the essentials of its essence and uses. Braya had grasped those principals almost immediately, holding rather lengthy discussions with her Masters. On occasion, she had been taken aside by an instructor and given an extra task or exercise, some small measure of the Force to experiment with. Braya had jumped at each opportunity, focusing intensely on such studies, single-minded almost to a fault, she quickly learned all that her instructors would offer and mastered much of it.

At the age of eleven her training intensified, as she became the Padawan learner of Master Mars Windrunner, a high-ranking Consular. Under his tutelage she progressed quickly, rapidly becoming her Master's equal in almost every way. She would have even surpassed him, had she possessed his calm, almost passive demeanor. Unfortunately, like many adolescents, she was rather brash and impatient. Yet she had persevered despite her shortcomings, and was awarded the rank of Knight at the age of nineteen, forgoing the specific paths of a Consular or Guardian in favor of the freedom to pursue her own studies. Following that decision she had built her lightsaber and infused it with a brilliant cyan crystal, signifying her place within the Order. In the four years since that time, she had become one of its most respected Knights, and her name was well known throughout the galaxy.

Standing now before the Council chambers, Braya forced the past from her thoughts, smiling as she thought of the gentle reprimand she would have received from Master Windrunner for allowing her focus to slip away from the present. She straightened and stepped inside the circular room as the door slid open.

The cluster of seats situated against the window of the north side sat empty, and Master Windrunner stood alone in the center of the room. He was a short man of average build with short brown hair and skin like tanned leather. Despite his stature, he nevertheless commanded tremendous respect, as he was one of the most powerful Jedi in the Order, second only to the head of the Council, Master Bole Akkad.

Braya stepped forward and greeted him with a low bow, her curiosity renewed as he returned the gesture with a nod.

"Hello, Master Braya," he said gently, prompting a smile from his former Padawan. Since perhaps a year after her ascension to Knighthood, he had called her that. It wasn't her official title, of course. Such a promotion was decades away even under the best of circumstances. Yet Mars had apparently noticed the joy Braya felt at hearing the Younglings refer to her as such on the occasions when she was called to assist in their studies, and had taken to addressing her that way himself.

"Master Windrunner," she replied gently. She started to speak again, but thought better of it. Mars seemed to notice and smiled.

"Speak your mind, Braya. This isn't exactly a formal meeting."

She nodded her appreciation. "Thank you. It's just that I'm curious why I was summoned to the Council chambers if the Council isn't present."

Mars didn't hesitate. "It was Master Akkad's decision. The rest of the Council has yet to be informed of the situation I wish to speak with you about." He turned and made his way to the cluster of chairs, seating himself slowly and motioning for Braya to do the same. Without waiting for her to oblige, he continued. "As you well know, the Jedi Order is spread across the galaxy to assist in the Republic's expansion. Currently there are just over one hundred Knights still residing her in the Temple."

Braya nodded. She was well aware of the current situation facing the Order as several hundred Knights and Masters had been dispatched to aid the star systems being afflicted by sects offering violent resistance to what they viewed as the Republic's takeover. She had nearly been sent away herself, but had instead been instructed to remain on Coruscant to aid in the training of students in light of the rapport she had with them.

"Unfortunately," Mars continued, "this knowledge isn't exactly confidential, and we cannot ignore the fact that the Order, and the Republic itself, is placed in a rather precarious position because of it. The Sith have been relatively silent. It seems they're content with their own troubles, but we can't trust that possibility.

Braya's expression hardened slightly. "Has something happened?"

Master Windrunner's brow wrinkled in thought, a flash of uncertainty in his gray eyes. A heavy silence hung over them, like smoke on the air, for what felt like an eternity. Braya thought to stretch out with the Force, to attempt touching the surface of Mars' mind, but quickly decided against it. She had skirted the edge of what the Council considered acceptable behavior on more than one occasion. She didn't think doing so here would be a wise decision. Instead she waited patiently until her former Master finally broke the silence, his voice grave and flat.

"We don't know."

Braya's head cocked slightly. Then why had she been summoned? What was the point of the secrecy? Mars didn't give her much time to ponder before continuing.

"Nearly two weeks ago, it was brought to our attention that a ship was apparently attacked beyond the Outer Rim, near the Unknown Regions. A pair of ships, actually. A freighter run by human smugglers, and a battle cruiser operated by a band of Rodian pirates.

"I don't have to tell you that such men are scavengers and opportunists, and such battles between ships occur regularly."

Braya remained silent, but responded with a nod.

"However," Mars went on. "In this particular case, it seems that it was much more than a siege gone awry. The damage done to both vessels would be impossible with conventional weapons, and their empty hulls are ingrained with residual energy. The Dark Side of the Force lingers still."

The young Knight's eyes widened. "Are you saying a Sith warrior attacked simple groups of pirates and smugglers? That's senseless!"

Mars Windrunner's eyes narrowed, a silent warning for Braya to mind her tone. "We don't know that for certain," he said quietly. "But the facts seem to suggest as much."

"But Master Windrunner, that doesn't make any sense. Why would a Sith do such a thing? What could they possibly gain?"

"That is exactly the heart of our dilemma. We don't know what happened aboard those ships, and we don't know why it happened. All we do know is there are two lifeless hulls drifting near the Outer Rim, and the Dark Side hangs over that area heavily." He sighed. "I don't think I have to tell you that where the Sith are concerned, we can afford to take no chances."

Braya nodded. It was the truth. The Jedi could afford no guesses as to the rhyme or reason of the Sith, who had lost most of it themselves with the disappearance of Darth Revan so many years ago. She focused her eyes on Master Windrunner. "Can I assume this is where I learn the reason you wanted to see me?"

Mars chuckled. "Yes, Master Braya. You can" He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, leaning a little closer to her. "We were able to determine that an escape pod was launched from the pirate's vessel. Whether it was done with purpose or due to mechanical malfunction, we frankly don't know. However, there is a planet near the region, Marcellus Prime. That's where the pod would have finished its journey. We would like you to go there and investigate."

A smile crossed Braya's young face. "You don't expect me to find a simple equipment malfunction." She made it a statement of fact.

Mars' expression didn't change. "Personally, no I don't. I don't think it likely simple pirates would have been able to overcome a Sith. However, until we know for certain, the Council won't act. The Sith have been virtually silent for three hundred years, and we are not about to go chasing after shadows while we are spread so thin."

Braya Star remained silent for a time. What Mars had said was true, of course. Given the current situation of the Republic and the Jedi Order, there were barely enough Jedi to handle day-to-day responsibilities in the Temple. Taking even a single Knight out of the equation would be more than a glancing blow, and would not be an action the Council would undertake lightly.

Besides, Braya had wanted desperately to do something more, to be a part of the greater scheme of things, and this was her opportunity. She couldn't have refused Master Windrunner in any case, but with the possibility laid before her, she would accept because it was an assignment she could take pride in. Trying to contain her enthusiasm, Braya finally broke the silence.

"What exactly am I to do when I determine the truth of things?"

Mars sighed, crossing his arms. "For the time being, nothing. We need you simply to determine what has transpired, and the Council will decide what happens from there. If it is a Sith, do not engage him.

"Or her," Braya cut in.

Mars smiled in spite of himself. "Or her. Assuming it is a Sith, he...or she...would have to know their actions would be detected, and that doesn't bode well. That implies either there's more than one operating in the region, or our lone agent is powerful enough, or naive enough, not to care. Either possibility makes the situation extremely dangerous."

"I understand," Braya said quietly, her mind already running through the possibilities. "When am I to depart."

Mars smiled broadly, reaching out to place a calloused hand on her shoulder. "Immediately."


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was beginning to set over Korriban, its dying rays casting the planet in a brilliant orange hue as it slowly gave way to nightfall. A harsh wind blew in from the west, scattering sand in all directions as it rushed through the Valley of the Dark Lords. The massive stone carvings of Sith Lords long dead and gone cast shadows that stretched across the valley, as if they sought to drive away the light. At its end, the Sith Academy sat silhouetted against the celestial canvas of the coming night, a foreboding fortress carved into the landscape.

The halls of the academy were quiet, its students relegated to their chambers for rest or private study. Instructors roamed the stone halls, their footsteps echoing throughout the complex as they made their rounds. They kept the routine mostly out of habit and tradition, though on rare occasions plots had been uncovered and foiled, and their perpetrators made examples of. Lord Malice sat alone in his chambers, gnarled features twisted in concentration. The focus of his thoughts, as it had been for several years, was the fall of the Jedi Order.

He had returned to Korriban and risen to lead the Sith just over seven years ago. Seizure of power had been a relatively simple process, and a slight smile crossed his thin lips as he briefly recalled it. Disputes were easily initiated, tempers easily flared, and the resulting duels resolved even more so. In a matter of months, those who opposed him had been violently put aside, and Malice had been universally recognized as ruler over the Sith. His feat was made all the more impressive by the fact that he had been the first since the legendary Darth Revan to achieve such stature. There would be those who would plot against their new leader, of course. That was the way of the Sith. However, none would prove bold enough to attempt carrying out their plans, wary of the power Malice wielded.

He chuckled in spite of himself, his eyes cutting to the metal handle of his lightsaber tucked into his black robes. If only the fools knew how he had come to possess such power, they would have never dared to even think to challenge him. What Malice had accomplished was nothing short of extraordinary. More so, in fact, with the consideration he had conquered the Sith Order minus an arm.

The presence of another disrupted his thoughts, and Malice turned his head slightly. His voice like the sound of glass being ground when he spoke. "Come, Rhyke. I've been expecting you."

He remained seated as his First Officer stepped into the chamber. Rhyke Elkin was easily the most dangerous member of the Sith Order next to Lord Malice himself. It was a strange twist of fate which had brought Elkin to the Sith. Born on Corellia, his affinity for the Force should have been identified at birth. As it was, due to the turmoil the Republic had faced nearly thirty years ago, when expansion had first been considered, somehow he had been overlooked. His abilities revealed themselves in his adolescence, as was often the case with those untrained, and he and his parents had immediately made the journey to Coruscant to present him before the Jedi Council for training consideration. It had cost Rhyke's parents everything they owned to deliver their son to the Order, but it had been for naught. He had been dismissed almost without consideration on the grounds that he was much too old, at fourteen years of age, to begin training as a Jedi. Too much time had passed and too many ill-fated views had been allowed to fester in his mind. He and his parents had left Coruscant heartbroken and bereft of possessions.

The experience had harbored deep resentment for the Jedi within the heart of Rhyke Elkin, and the moment he was old enough to leave home, he had journeyed to Korriban, following the rumors that the Sith Academy had reopened.

Malice had recognized his talents early on, and it hadn't taken long for Rhyke to rise to the top of the ranks within the Sith Order. His hatred of the Jedi fueled his every thought, and Malice was all too happy to exploit and encourage it.

"Master," Rhyke began, his voice calm and controlled, contrary to the anxiety the Dark Lord sensed within. "There's been an event beyond the Outer Rim. We've only just learned of it, but I thought it necessary to bring it to your attention."

A smile crossed the Dark Lord's face and his rose slowly, adjusting the right arm of his robes, pinned against his shoulder to leave no doubt of the missing limb beneath. An attempt to hide such a distinctive attribute would be seen as a sign of weakness, and that was something he didn't care to perpetuate. He reached up with his left arm and lowered the dark hood, his grizzled face twisted in a sneer as he began to speak.

"I already know what you have to say, though I don't blame you for coming yourself." He broke off, turning his back on the other as he began to pace slowly. "There has been an incident involving a pair of undesirable vessels near the Unknown Regions. Empty hulls filled with the corpses of the dead, and the Dark Side lingering heavily over the ships' carcasses. You wish to be allowed to investigate, to discover the identity of the attacker, and bring him back here. You see the potential for a powerful ally in the coming battle against the Jedi."

He paused, letting his words linger on the air as he turned to face Rhyke Elkin. If his First Officer was surprised at the Dark Lord's knowledge, he gave no indication of it. Malice smiled inwardly. Yet another of Rhyke's many favorable attributes: his utter lack of underestimation when dealing with others, particularly his betters.

After a moment, Rhyke gave a slight nod. "Yes, my Lord. All of our own are accounted for, so this was not the act of a rouge student. I want to find the perpetrator and discover whether he wishes to be a threat, or an asset. Either way, my Lord, I can assure you he will be dealt with accordingly."

"I know you will," his praise veiled an undeniable threat, but Malice left it at that. Rhyke Elkin was many things, but a fool he was not. He would follow his instructions explicitly. He would do exactly as Malice told him and no more, no less. "However," the Dark Lord paused, contemplating. "I would like to add an amendment of sorts to your endeavor."

Elkin's brow arched inquisitively. "Yes, my Lord?"

Malice began to pace slowly as he continued. "Marcellus Prime is the only possible destination for the escape pod which launched from one of the ships. I know the planet vaguely. It is a poor, sparsely populated society. You will find no resistance to your inquiries. Go there and find our young Force wielder, and when you do, bring him before me."

Rhyke Elkin began to protest before he could stop himself. Malice lashed out with the Force, grasping his lieutenant's wind pipe, sneering as his voice took on a violent tone. "I did not ask for your opinion, Elkin. Know your place. When you find the boy, you will bring him before me." With a wave of his hand, he raised Rhyke several inches off the ground and stepped forward slowly to stand right in front of him. "Your understanding of the implications of this little development is sorely limited. Suffice it to say this is a matter of personal importance to me. You will find the boy and bring him here. You will do _exactly_ as you are told. Do I make myself clear?"

Rhyke struggled to respond, nodding his head vigorously. Malice released his grip and let his lieutenant crumple to the stone floor. Rhyke brought himself to his feet slowly, gasping for breath and rubbing his neck. After several moments he straightened, and responded with a low bow. "As you wish, Lord Malice." With that, he took a few steps backward before turning and leaving his master's quarters.

The Dark Lord stood in silence, watching the other leave. Despite his misgivings, Rhyke could be counted on to do as he was told. He didn't know the half of what the Sith leader had discovered, and would not soon forget the lesson he had just been taught. Malice pushed the thought aside and returned to the carved throne. There were more pressing matters at hand. For instance, what exactly was he to do with the boy when he arrived? How much had he changed in the near decade since Malice had last seen him? Had he grown more powerful, or had his self-induced exile weakened his abilities?

A flash of anger crossed his mind and his eyes darted to the sleeve of his robe where his right arm should be. He didn't fight it, but let it come, allowing it to fill him and fuel his hunger for vengeance.

He would make an example of the boy, of course, and deservedly so. But, if the circumstances were correct, should that example be one of death?

Lord Malice leaned back in his seat, losing himself in the thought as he began to wait patiently for the return of his lieutenant, and his former apprentice...


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

Braya Star walked in nervous silence as she and Master Windrunner made their way to the landing pad. Despite the lateness of the hour, speeders still zoomed by overhead, though many were occupied by drivers en route to their favorite night spots. Braya rolled her eyes absently, envious of them for a moment. Their only concern was for a good time of drink and music with friends and family, completely ignorant of the fact that just a few dozen yards below, a Jedi Knight was being dispatched on a reconnaissance mission that could well lead to an altercation with a Sith Lord. Despite Mars' previous cautions that she was merely to confirm the identity of the attacker, Braya had little faith events would end there. As if sensing her thoughts - which he probably was, she reminded herself - Mars placed a hand gently on her shoulder, his voice even and calm as they walked.

"This isn't the first mission you've undertaken, Braya. We wouldn't be sending you out there if we had any doubts of your abilities."

Braya responded with a nod and a forced smile. Mars sighed. There was no need for her to speak. He already knew what troubled her. It was the simple fact that she was being asked to track a person who was almost undoubtedly a Dark Lord of the Sith. If, in fact, this was revealed to be the case, the repercussions of the discovery were completely alien to her. She was simply incapable of wrapping her mind around what an all-out war with the Sith would be like. He hoped, of course, it wouldn't come to that, but the reality was the Jedi Council had learned their lesson of being overly patient in the Mandalorian Wars. If this attacker proved to be a Sith, Mars had no doubt the Council would do whatever it could to descend upon them swiftly and fiercely, attempting to wipe them out before the situation could get too much out of hand. Braya knew this as well, but despite her accomplishments, the fact remained that she had never faced a Sith in combat. There were few Jedi living who had. They had been in hiding for nearly the entirety of the three hundred years since the end of the Jedi Civil War. The truth, if Mars delved into it only slightly, was that Braya Star was afraid.

They stopped at the large circular landing pad and stood in silence for several moments. Braya stared at the sleek shuttle, _The Endeavor_, she had been told by Mars. Short wings fanned out on each side while a single fin rested above its center. There was nothing spectacular about it, but even though Braya's knowledge of starships was limited, she suddenly had the sense that it was unimpressive by design. Luckily, she thought, she would be accompanied by one of the Temple's utility droids.

Mars motioned for her to move forward, and she did so, staying in stride with the Jedi Master as the port door opened at her approach. Her mind was beginning to race already, and she focused intently on keeping her thoughts centered on the here and now. Before stepping inside the craft, she turned to Master Windrunner. "I just don't want you to worry about me, Master. I'll do what's necessary, and avoid a confrontation at all costs."

Mars smiled. "I know that, Braya. Take care, and please don't hesitate to contact me if you need anything. May the Force be with you."

Braya gave a low bow. "Thank you, Master." She turned and began to step into the shuttle when she felt another presence enter the small bay, and saw from the corner of her eye Master Windrunner turn to see the newcomer as a voice called to them.

"Wait! Don't leave yet!" The man was running up the ramp to the bay, his cheeks flushed as he waved at the pair. He was a tall, slender man in his mid-thirties, Braya guessed. He wore the simple garb of the Jedi, but he wasn't anyone she recognized. As he came closer his pace slowed to a walk, and it was then Braya noticed that where his lightsaber should have been, the man carried a blaster pistol. He took a moment to catch his breath before looking at Mars with a barely concealed glare. "Master Windrunner," he greeted with a nod. "I see you're still as impatient as ever."

Mars' face remained expressionless, and although his tone was light, it carried just a hint of condemnation. "Than, I see you're still as unpunctual as ever," he replied in kind with a nod of his own. He turned back toward Braya and motioned toward the newcomer. "Braya Star, I'd like you to meet Than Raven. He's going to be joining you."

She gave the man a nod as he bowed. "You're a Sutran," she said, making it a statement rather than a question. Than Raven smiled. Before he could answer, Braya turned to Mars, clearly upset. "Master Windrunner, I don't mean to be rude, but why wasn't I told about this before? You're going to send me to the Unknown Regions with someone of I've never met, and you didn't see fit to let me know? And what do the Sutrans have vested in this? They're not even an Order, spread even more thin than we are because they have no one to govern them!"

Than scowled, raising his finger to point at the young Knight, but before he could say a word, Mars stepped between the pair. "I didn't tell you, Braya, because to be honest, I didn't think he would actually come." He shot a look back at Than. "He's never been exactly reliable when it comes to matters of time." He turned back to his former Padawan. "And you, Master Braya, would do well to mind your tone, and even better not to speak out of turn regarding matters of which you have little understanding." Mars let his words hang on the air a moment before he took a step back. "Now," he continued, "perhaps we can get on with our duties. May the Force be with you both." With that, he turned and walked away, Than offering a slight bow and Braya remaining motionless.

When the door opened to allow Master Windrunner to exit the bay, Than turned to Braya. "Let's get a few things settled before we even get on this ship. First of all, I'm here because I chose to be, and if I see any reason to, I'll choose to leave, and you can go and chase your Sith by your little lonesome. Second, because I'm here of my own choosing, I don't answer to you, or to any Jedi, for that matter; and you would do well to remember that. Third," there was a long pause, his eyes wandering as if he was searching for the words. "Well I suppose there's only two for now. But I want you to keep them in mind!"

Braya couldn't help but chuckle as his frustration. Within the few minutes she'd been in his presence, she had already decided that she didn't particularly care for Than Raven. Though she was certain having him along would be entertaining.

Pushing the thought away, she motioned toward the shuttle. "Very well. Let's get on with it, then. Shall we?" Without waiting for a response, she turned and stepped into the ship. Than followed wordlessly, glancing around the small vessel as they made their way into the cockpit. The Sutran was quick to place himself in the pilot's seat and assume the controls, but Braya saw no point in arguing with him. Instead she took her seat in silence and they strapped themselves in. As Than Raven began to turn the systems on, Braya couldn't help but stare. She knew very little about the Sutrans, but if they were all as obnoxious as he was, she decided very quickly that she would prefer to keep it that way.

A heavy silence hung between them for several minutes as the small craft lifted from the bay and penetrated the atmosphere. Braya closed her eyes, and her fingers dug into the arms of her chair slightly. Despite her years in the Jedi Order, she didn't particularly care for space travel. Once the jump to hyperspace was made, she was generally fine, but the journey through a planet's atmosphere always left her more than a little unsettled. She heard a chuckle and opened her eyes, looking to her right to find Than looking at her and smiling. "How cute," he sneered. "The princess doesn't like flying."

Braya glared at him, trying desperately to calm herself as she awaited the jump to hyperspace. At least then she would be able to have a temporary reprieve of Than Raven. The small cargo hold should suit that particular purpose perfectly.

"Very well," he said. "Going into hyperspace."

A flash of anger crossed Braya's eyes at the Sutran's audacity to invade her mind, but she quickly quelled it as she watched the stars through the viewport extend slowly. Then, with a harsh jolt she nevertheless felt was merciful, they had finally made the jump. Without a word, she unstrapped herself from the chair and began to storm away. Than's call stopped her in her tracks.

"Listen," he paused as he stood slowly, walking toward her with his arms out to his sides in a decidedly cocky fashion. "We're stuck together for at least a couple of days. We may as well make the best of it, and I guess I haven't exactly helped to start us off on the right foot."

Braya Star's arms crossed, and she arched an angry eyebrow. "You don't suppose that could be an understatement, do you?"

Than smiled broadly, taking another step toward her. "Look, here's my deal, if that's what you want to call it. I'm here because, even though the Sutrans don't associate much with the Jedi, we share virtually all the same views, and we're just as unwilling as you are to take chances where the Sith are concerned. The last thing we want is a war with them when the Jedi are spread as thin as they are and, let's be honest, our own numbers are only a fraction of yours." He paused a moment, letting his words sink in. "I'm also here because I am the best the Sutrans have to offer. Make no mistake about that, Master Braya," the term was all but spat from his mouth. "I am just as powerful as your Masters Windrunner and Akkad, and just as skilled with a lightsaber, despite the fact I don't carry one."

Braya's brow lowered, and her expression turned inquisitive. "Why is that, exactly? Why don't you carry a lightsaber?"

Than Raven's grin grew even more, and he motioned back toward the chairs in the cockpit. "We've got time to kill. Why don't you sit for awhile, we can hammer out our differences, and I'll try and explain it."

Braya sighed heavily, but obliged. At this point, she wanted only to get to where they were going, and to see what there was to see. Yet the journey would no doubt be easier on both of them if they could come to some sort of civility. So she took her seat once more, wrapping her loose robes about her slender form. She listened with half an ear as Than Raven began to ramble on about himself, his training, his skills, his views, and the all-encompassing belief that he was more than a match for anything in the galaxy foolish enough to challenge him. She refrained from rolling her eyes, though only barely, and silently asked herself if they were there yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

The upbeat music emanating through the small cantina was little more than a cacophony of irritation ringing in the ears of Kenneth Aeris. He sat quietly at the bar, keeping to himself as he sipped from a tall glass of Rodian ale, wondering as he did so how he was going to pay for the beverage, but not altogether caring, either. Most of the other patrons paid him little attention, though there were a few who stared questioningly at him long enough for him notice. He didn't blame them, though. He didn't even return their looks, in fact. With his torn and tattered robes covered in rather obvious scorches, his face bruised and covered in scratches, and the lightsaber at his hip, Kenneth imagined he must look quite a sight.

He forced the thoughts away with a shake of his head, returning to his drink. His triumphant return home had been anything but, and even now as he thought of it he could feel his anger beginning to rise. If he hadn't been stupid enough to think the life he wanted would be easily attained upon arrival, his mood would have been much less sour.

Kenneth experienced such an utter sense of joy at setting his feet on the soil of Marcellus Prime, as close to happy as he had been in many years, he wasn't able to help himself. Against his better judgment, the first thing he wished to do was find his parents. He refused even to entertain the thought of guessing at their reaction. When he had left home nearly a decade ago, he hadn't done so in the best of circumstances. He hadn't even said good-bye in person. Instead, he had scribbled a hasty note telling them that something rather important had occurred, that he had to leave immediately, and that he wasn't sure when he would be home. He chided himself now as he thought of it. To his eleven year-old self, it made perfect sense that his parents would accept the note, that he would be gone only a few days before returning home where everything would be as it always was. How foolish he had been. Still, now he had the opportunity to set things right, and he wasn't about to let it slip away.

With the suns still high in the afternoon sky above him, Kenneth began to make his way toward the settlement of Calbach. His parents' home would be just on the other side of it, barely a walk of two hours. With a smile on his face, he began to walk, taking in the mundane sights and sounds of dust and rocks of varying shades of gray as if they were the most brilliant and diverse sensations he had ever experienced. The landscape about him was barren, without the slightest hint of civilization in sight, save for the settlement before him. Jagged hills rose here and there along the horizon, reminding him very much of Tatooine, which he cared not at all to think about, and so he focused only on moving forward.

Within minutes, his feet were already beginning to hurt, and Kenneth couldn't help but smile. He had been away for far too long. He had forgotten the pain he had often experienced walking around as a child. It was a simple side-effect of Marcellus Prime's soil, if you could even call it that. The planet's crust consisted mostly of iron, and so its inhabitants were essentially standing on a planet-wide metal plate. It took quite a bit of getting used to, but at the moment that didn't matter to Kenneth. He was overjoyed to feel the resulting ache's of walking on his home world, which he thought presently he wouldn't trade for a mattress made of the softest material in the galaxy.

The streets of Calbach were only slightly less crowded than he remembered. Many were standing in line for various shops along the streets, offering everything from jewelry and pottery to small speeders and salvaged parts for what may as well be ancient ships, to even "highly advanced" protocol and utility droids that only the excessively naive would purchase, only to discover quickly that they failed miserably to live up to expectations, and that warranties on the droids expired the moment they were taken from the shop. Kenneth shook his head. Despite the years which had passed since he had last walked these streets, nothing had changed. That was, of course, until he arrived at his parents' home...

Kenneth closed the thoughts away with another swill of the ale. His family, as well as his hopes to rejoin them, was gone. Dwelling on that knowledge would do much more harm than good. Wishing for the circumstances to be different didn't make them so, and it was simply better to let the matter lie. So now he pondered, albeit only in the vaguest sense, where he should go from here.

It suddenly struck him that, despite the years he had spent yearning to return and the months he had spent doing so, he had never given much thought to the specifics of his new life, or how he should go about them. It was an oversight he was very nearly disgusted with, and one he could hardly believe he had been foolish enough to make. He supposed the first thing he should do is procure lodging of some sort. Unfortunately, he knew already the best he could hope for was a room which was only pathetically adequate for the most basic need of a roof over his head. Perhaps one of the local shop owners would allow him to work in exchange for his bedding, and if he worked hard enough, and was lucky enough, he would only have to suffer such an existence for a handful of months before he would be able to build a home of his own.

Kenneth sighed as he signaled the barkeep for another round. It was a pitiful plan, but he quickly decided it would be infinitely better than the way he had spent the last several years living, and so it was sound enough.

He had just raised the new glass to his lips when he paused. Something was amiss. The feeling was so foreign in this place that it took a moment for him to register what it was he felt, but it came to him in a rush of clarification.

A presence. One strong with the Force.

He forced himself to remain calm, to take a few deep breaths, fighting his instinct to turn around to view the newcomer. Kenneth knew if the person was as powerful as he sensed them to be, then they already knew he was there, as well. He took a drink from his glass and set it down, his mind racing. Who were they? Why were they here?

His mind darkened.

Were they Jedi, or Sith?

The other patrons had apparently noticed the new arrival, as well, as a hush fell over the room, though only for a second, before the general bustle of noise resumed. Kenneth ran through his options, which were few, quickly in his mind. He chose the one which seemed the most straightforward, and put it into action. Reaching out with the Force ever so slightly, he gently touched the minds of those around him, trying to hone in on the presence he felt. It took only a second for him to find it, and he stretched further to try and read the surface thoughts of the person's mind. The act didn't avail him much, though for what small comfort it was worth, he didn't sense any malignancy about them. Kenneth's instincts refused to let him relax, however, the thought quickly forming that it was not beyond the realm of possibility for the Jedi or Sith or whatever they were to expect him to do just what he had, and so conceal their thoughts and motives from him. His touch had been perhaps too gentle, an attempt to avoid detection, and he knew it wouldn't take much effort from the other to seal their minds from him.

"You really shouldn't argue with yourself." A woman's voice beside him made Kenneth nearly jump out of his skin.

His head snapped to look at the speaker and he was momentarily stunned by the young, smooth face with deep set almond eyes and cinnamon hair tied into a tight ponytail. She was attractive, though not what you'd call gorgeous, yet there was something about that look which caused Kenneth to stumble over his words as he struggled for a retort.

The woman chuckled. "It's good that your instincts give you pause, that you don't readily accept what you can't verify. Especially considering your little attempt at mind-reading was about as subtle as a bantha in a ballet."

She took a seat next to him, and it was then that Kenneth's mind registered the simple garb of a Jedi, as well as the lightsaber hanging on her belt. But what was a Jedi doing near the Unknown Regions, out here on the fringe of Republic space? Still uneasy, he forced himself to look the woman in the eye.

"Who are you?" he blurted; rather loudly, in fact, which brought strange glances from some of the patrons, and a smile from his new acquaintance.

"I see subtlety isn't your forte," she chuckled. "Very well, then. I'll dispense with pleasantries and small talk." Her expression and toned suddenly turned serious. "My name is Braya Star. I'm a Knight of the Jedi Order, and I've been sent here by a direct request from the Jedi Council to discover just what the hell happened to those two vessels floating just beyond the planet's orbit."

Kenneth's brow arched. "What makes you think I know anything about that?"

Braya scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Please. The power hovering over those wrecks left a trail even a Youngling could follow." She turned to the barkeep and hailed for a drink. When she had it, she drained half the glass before turning back to Kenneth. "Now - and I probably shouldn't tell you this - _officially_, I am only to determine the nature of the attacker and return to Coruscant with my findings. Officially, I have no business sitting here with you now. But when I came upon the wreckage I was able to sense glimpses of what had happened on board. I found it strange that, while there were flashes of anger, rage, even hatred; they were brief flashes only. In my experience, that's not exactly what you'd call 'typical' where the Sith are concerned."

At the mention of the Sith, Kenneth straightened instinctively and his hand slowly began to move closer to his lightsaber. Braya noticed and with a wave of her hand removed the weapon from his belt and set it on the bar in front of her.

"That won't be necessary, not to mention it wouldn't be very wise on your part." Her tone never altered. "I don't believe you belong to the Sith." She took another drink from her glass. "However, I know for certain you're not a Jedi, either. So that begs a very important question." Her fingers moved slowly up around the metal hilt of Kenneth's lightsaber as she spoke. "Just who the hell are you?"

"Kenneth Aeris," he answered, somewhat surprised to have recovered his powers of speech. "And you're right. I'm not a Sith...or a Jedi." His gaze fell to the floor. "I'm not entirely sure what I am. Until you showed up, I was hoping I could be nothing more than a dealer or shopkeeper. I guess maybe now that's..."

He and Braya felt the presence at the same moment. They both turned toward the front door of the cantina, their eyes falling on the man who had just entered. Just over six feet tall, his broad frame nearly hidden by the dark robes he wore, though they could not disguise the powerful build of the warrior beneath. Kenneth felt a wave of nausea just looking at the man, and he looked to Braya. There was no question as to this man's identity, and she was clearly just as surprised at the appearance of a Sith as he was.

He wanted to ask her what he should do, but before he could form the words, the man at the door waved his hand, sending patrons and tables careening into walls on the far sides of the cantina. Braya tossed Kenneth his lightsaber, which he barely caught, and even as he fumbled to activate the weapon, she had drawn her own, and the blue-green blade flashed brilliantly as she leaped toward the attacker. In his mind, Kenneth heard Braya's voice scream at him, _Get behind me!_ He obeyed as he finally brought his own blade to life with a sharp _snap-hiss_ and moved to join the battle just as the blades of Braya Star and the unnamed Sith clashed.

_No!_ her voice screamed again, and Kenneth stood frozen in place, at a loss for what he should do and desperate not to get in the Jedi's way. He watched as the blue-green and red blades slashed and parried, loud crackling echoing through the cantina each time they connected with each other. For a moment he was lost in amazement at the battle unfolding before him, each combatant wielding their weapon expertly, neither one able to gain the slightest advantage over the other.

Then Braya swung wildly and the Sith ducked, preparing to spring forward as he looked to run the Jedi through with his blade. Kenneth saw what was going to happen and knew there was no way Braya would be able to dodge the blow. She was too overextended. Panicked, he reached out with the Force and snatched the Sith's lightsaber from him just as he moved to deliver the stroke. The intervention caught the Sith off guard, and he looked toward Kenneth with a searing hatred which made him step backward in spite of himself. At that instant, Braya used the momentary distraction to her advantage, and unleashed a powerful Push upon the assailant, sending him backward into the far wall which he collided with hard and fell in a heap on the ground.

Not wanting to give the Sith the opportunity to continue the battle, Braya quickly raised her hand and called again on the Force, loosing a large section of the cantina's ceiling and sending it crashing upon the crumpled man. She didn't stop to see if it had been enough to stop him, quickly running toward the door and grabbing Kenneth by his arm, hauling him fiercely along with her as they fled the cantina.

Braya fumbled for something on her belt, and activated a small communicator. "Than!" she yelled into the device. "Pick us up! Now!" She placed the comm back on her belt, refusing to release Kenneth's arm as she began to run faster, nearly dragging him along now as he could barely keep up. Seconds later a small shuttle lowered in front of them, the make of which Kenneth didn't recognize, but he suddenly felt more than a little nervous about the prospect of getting inside.

"Keep comments to yourself!" Braya yelled, obviously hearing his thoughts. He had just enough time to think that he wished he could do that as well as she could before the shuttle doors opened and he was all but thrown into the ship with Braya Star jumping in behind him. "Go!" she yelled to someone Kenneth couldn't see, and the vessel lurched as it abruptly changed direction and began speeding along toward the planet's atmosphere.

Braya retrieved the Sith's weapon from Kenneth's hand rather harshly and took a few steps back. Kenneth got to his feet slowly, his eyes locked on the Jedi as it finally dawned on him that she had just saved his life; and furthermore, the thought occurred to him that he didn't particularly care to be in this woman's debt.

Before he could say anything, Braya stopped him with a motion of her hand. "Don't ask me anything. Don't even think about it." She turned her back to Kenneth and began to pace back and forth, and he could feel the anger emanating from her. "I came all this way" she continued, "just to find out who you were. Simple. Straightforward. Get in, get answers, go home. Instead," she was nearly fuming now, "I find a young idiot who can barely tell me his name, no straightforward answers, and an impromptu duel with a _Sith _- during which I have to save said idiot's ass."

Kenneth started to protest, but the look Braya shot at him told him it would be worse than stupid, and he remained silent.

"So now," Braya went on, "you're going to sit down and give me the answers I'm looking for."

"It's kind of a long story," he managed barely above a whisper.

Braya glared at him. "We've got plenty of time until we reach Coruscant. Why don't you enlighten me?"

For just a moment, Kenneth thought he would prefer to take his chances in the cantina with the Sith.


	6. Chapter 6

_Life on Marcellus Prime is simple, but difficult. There are no more than three dozen settlements spread across the barren planet, the population reaching barely into the tens of thousands, all of them struggling for survival on a daily basis. Some are lucky. They are born into families who own established shops or cantinas, and the stability such longevity brings lightens the weight of their struggle. Others are not so lucky; possessing undesirable work ethics or no marketable skill sets. These are forced to become common traders, bartering with those who can afford to do so for their basic needs day in and day out. Others still, are neither lucky nor unlucky. Their names are unknown. Their skills are unremarkable, but sufficient, and they are willing to work their weary bodies to the bone for the simple privilege of ensuring their families' next meal. This is the caste into which Kenneth Aeris is born._

_The Aeris' are a simple family. Kenneth's mother, Preia, a beautiful woman despite being beyond middle-aged, is a modest homemaker. All of her energy is focused on caring for her son and husband, and she spends every waking moment focused on providing a loving home within their humble stone dwelling. She is often in poor health, the result of a childhood ailment which was never fully cured. Several times during Kenneth's younger years, the responsibility of caring for the household falls to him. Though his skills are rather lacking, he accepts his duty with a child's pride, and performs his mother's various chores to the best of his ability. _

_His father, like the majority of men on Marcellus Prime, works in the Iridium mines. Tay Aeris has worked the mines for nearly twenty years, and while it has never provided more than sufficient means for his family, he is well respected among his peers, and he is generally well liked within their small settlement of Calbach. Many of their neighbors are aware of Preia Aeris' ever-changing health, and many offer small gifts of a chore here and there during the week to help Tay's family, and on occasion bear gifts of extra food, though this is a rare occurrence. The Aeris' do not have much in the way of possessions, but they are happy in their own way, and infinitely satisfied to simply have enough. Tay and Preia Aeris are abundantly proud of the humble home they have built for their son._

_When he reaches the age of twelve, Kenneth Aeris is presented with a choice. It is something of a tradition within families like his for boys to begin work in the mines with their fathers upon beginning the approach to manhood. The idea is to spend their adolescence and teenage years under their father's tutelage, therefore being able to assume his responsibilities upon reaching manhood, and allowing his father to retire. There is no official law or regulation for this, of course. However, taking into consideration the weariness of most workers after twenty years, it is a practice that has been widely adopted in the best interest of all; giving the boys several years to learn and apply that learning, while giving their fathers a steadily decreasing demand on their bodies, then allowing them to retire before the strain of the labor ruins them completely. This way of life is standard, and widely considered honorable. This path is open to young Kenneth._

_However, being the only child in his home, and considering the fluidity of his mother's health, Kenneth has another option. He may choose to remain at home with his mother for a period a five years, before beginning his work in the mines. Doing so will allow him to learn her traditions, which he may hypothetically pass to his children, in the absence of a female sibling. Also, doing so would allow him to handle the daily responsibilities of running the household, in the event of his mother's passing, until such time as his father retires and may handle those duties himself. In this event, Kenneth's training in the mines will be accelerated when it begins, placing him under the guidance of a group of mentors rather than only his father. Despite his youth, Kenneth understands the implications of both options. Wishing only to live up to his father's reputation, he chooses to enter the mines._

_The first few months pass without incident. Kenneth is an exceptionally quick study, and his mother experiences no health issues, allowing the boy to focus his full attention to the fulfillment of his duties within the Iridium mines. As a result, while he is yet physically unable to move the loads Tay can, his desire and work ethic are quickly considered the equal of his father's, and many jokingly whisper that Kenneth will put his father out to pasture prematurely. Kenneth cannot explain his ability to excel at such an early stage, and he and Tay take the jokes in stride. However, those same whispers begin to quickly swell the pride of the youth. _

_During his fifth month within the mines, Kenneth is already given responsibility over individual loads which he is to move himself. The assignment comes as a surprise to the boy, who accepts it all too readily. It is only a few days later, while pushing a cart carrying more than four hundred pounds of stones, that Kenneth's pride nearly costs the boy his life. He is full of piss and vinegar, as his father is fond of saying, and has already developed a habit of moving the loaded carts much faster than he should. His almost frenzied pace has resulted in a series of stones falling from the cart throughout much of the day. As he pushes the day's final cart around a rather sharp curve along a steep hill cut into the mine, he begins to run, anxious now to finish his tasks before Tay, pushing the cart faster. The cart collides with one of the previously fallen stones and tips on its side, flinging Kenneth down the hill several dozen feet and hurtling its cargo after him._

_The boy hits the bottom in agonizing pain. He is certain he has broken at least two ribs, and his ankle is horribly twisted. All of this registers in a split-second, and Kenneth looks up toward the sound of falling stones. He is horrified to find his final load accelerating toward him at a frightening speed. Immediately, the boy knows he will not be able to move out of the way in time to avoid the debris. With tears streaming down his face, he tucks himself into a ball, his mind screaming for the stones to stop, all the while bracing himself for the impact._

_It never comes._

_He waits several seconds, his mind holding on to that silent prayer with an iron grasp, and slowly opens his eyes, chancing a glance up the hill. He is shocked to find the stones locked in place; some standing still upon the incline which should make it impossible, and others hanging silently several inches above the ground. In his stupor, the prayer fades away and the stones fall to the ground, and Kenneth rolls out of the way as they complete their descent. His father finds him nearly half an hour later, and when he asks Kenneth what happened, the boy can only reply with a simple, "I fell."_

_It is nearly two weeks later when the stranger comes. The Aeris' are roused from their dinner by a knock at the door. Preia answers, and in short order admits a rather disheveled looking man in his early thirties, the hood of his robes lowered to reveal a shaggy black beard, and piercing green eyes beneath an equally shaggy crop of thinning black hair. The man approaches Tay Aeris and greets him with a short bow, introducing himself as Jedi Master Grajam Demmurr._

_He explains that he is part of an effort by the Jedi Order to expand the boundaries of their recruitment. Grajam and a handful of other Knights and Masters are spread throughout the Outer Rim and beyond in an attempt to gather potential students from all reaches of the galaxy. He explains he was drawn here by an unusually powerful disturbance in the Force, which he tracked to Marcellus Prime, and quickly determined its source. The source of that disturbance, he tells them, was young Kenneth._

_It is then that his parents learn the truth of Kenneth's accident in the mines. Grajam quickly explains the experience as a powerful indication of Kenneth's affinity to the Force. The boy is instantly caught up in the Jedi's words, and listens with baited breath as the newcomer begins – rather surreptitiously, Kenneth notices – to negotiate the terms of the boy's tutelage. The details are drowned out by the boy's raging imagination, and it will forever remain a mystery to him exactly how the agreement was reached._

_He spends the next five years traveling with Grajam, eagerly devouring every piece of lore and power the Jedi Master will share with him. Within that five years, he excels rapidly, quickly becoming his teacher's equal. At first, he does not notice the zeal with which Grajam describes the Dark Side of the Force in their talks, or the way he encourages the boy's use of the raw power contained within his basest emotions such as anger. He doesn't give thought to the fact that Grajam rarely, if ever, discusses the Jedi Council, and that his conduct is largely a far cry from the few legends of the Jedi with which Kenneth is familiar. Caught up in the living out of his sudden fantasy become reality, driven only by the need to increase his knowledge and power, Kenneth doesn't notice the whispers which begin to form somewhere in the depths of his subconscious._

_Then after five years of traveling and training with the man, during a brief return to his home to visit his parents, Kenneth Aeris learns the truth. He and Grajam are engaged in a debate over certain aspects of the Force which the boy will quickly forget. His Master is rapidly approaching a drunken stupor, his words increasingly laced with anger and finally turning to rage. He begins to scream at Kenneth._

"_You're wrong, boy! To attain a full understanding on the Force, you have to have a working knowledge of all its aspects! The Jedi are blind to the full potential of the Force because they refuse to delve into anything beyond the comfortable traditions they've observed for centuries! I tried to tell them, tried to help them! I would show them the possibilities the Dark Side offered if its raw power could be tamed! They cast me out for my trouble! Nearly thirty years I served them, and they threw me aside like a Bantha's carcass!_

"_That's why I recruited you. You called out to me that day in the mines. Your power, your potential was unmistakable. It was improbable, but conceivable, that such power may be sense by the Jedi Council, as well. I had to act. I had to prove them wrong. I had to train you, to shape you, to prove the truth of my convictions through you. Don't you get it, boy? You're the key to everything. You are the weapon of my vengeance!"_

_As Grajam speaks, Kenneth spends long moments refusing to believe his words, refusing to believe anyone capable of manipulating a child in the way the old man is suggesting. He is overcome with several emotions at once, none of which he can sort out, but suddenly a harsh whisper like hundreds of voices at once sounds loudly in his mind._

_-Don't fight it, boy. You're right to be angry. I can fix it. I can make him pay.-_

_Kenneth doesn't know where the voice is coming from, but he knows it whispers lies. As Grajam continues to shout, Kenneth's anger increases, and he begins to feel himself slip._

_-That's right, boy. Let it go. I can give you the power to make it right.-_

_Kenneth's mind is a senseless cacophony of anger and confusion. He tries to shut out the whispers, but feels his fists begin to clench. Then without warning, Grajam reaches out and slaps Kenneth hard across the face._

_-NOW!-_

_The boy loses himself in his rage instantly, drawing his lightsaber and igniting the blade in mid-swing, severing Grajam's arm at the shoulder. He grabs the old man by his robes and shoves him outside. The false Jedi stumbles over his own feet in his shock at the boy's attack and falls to the ground. Unable to defend himself, he lays there helplessly as the boy brings up his weapon once more and stabs his mentor through the chest. Grajam throws his head back to scream, but no sound escapes his lips. His eyes grow wide as he gasps for breath, and his crumpled form quickly goes limp._

_Kenneth is barely aware of what he has done, his mind failing to recover from the merciless onslaught it had just endured. He hears his parents' footsteps coming down the stone hallway, and quickly carves the words "I'm sorry" into the floor with his lightsaber before shutting the blade down and running outside._

_He does not stop until he reaches Grajam's shuttle. He has no idea where he will go, conscious now only of his need to get as far away from the scene of his grisly act. Kenneth quickly straps himself in to the pilot's seat, ignites the engines, and pulls away into the stars. As Marcellus Prime fades away behind him, he is conscious again of the gravelly whisper in his mind._

_It is laughing. _

_._


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

Silence hung heavily over the pair within the cramped space tucked behind the cockpit. Kenneth waited in silence, eyeing Braya Star's expression carefully, waiting for the Knight to show something of what was going on within her mind. Her smooth features betrayed nothing of her thoughts, and he was forced to sit quietly for several long moments as he waited for Braya to mull over his story.

"I, for one," the sudden sound of a voice from the cockpit startled Kenneth, and he jumped slightly in his seat, "thought it was a lovely story."

The man approaching from the cockpit wore the garb of the Jedi, though the absence of a lightsaber was more than a little suspicious. Kenneth guessed he was in his thirties. He was tall and slender, not particularly broad through the shoulders, with an inquisitive, almost childlike countenance beneath a crop of short blonde hair. The man took notice of Kenneth's scare and didn't bother to suppress the smile which played across his lips at the young man's expense. He extended his hand to the new passenger. "My name is Than Raven, and I assume you're the quasi-Sith-Jedi we've been sent to track down."

Kenneth accepted Than's hand in silence, uncertain how to react to the introduction, but certain already that he didn't particularly care for this man. After a moment of taking the other's measure, Kenneth finally offered a weak reply. "Kenneth Aeris. And yeah, I guess I am."

Than's smile widened as he crouched down in front of Kenneth. "So tell me something, Kenneth. What do _you _think you are?"

"Than," Braya's voice echoed sharply in the cramped space. "I believe it's _my_ job to ask the questions. Why don't you stick to flying the ship?"

"Not necessary," Than retorted. Kenneth thought he detected just a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Coordinates are in the navi-computer, and we can stay on autopilot almost all the way back to Coruscant."

Braya smiled sarcastically. "Then why don't you make yourself useful and go lie down somewhere."

Kenneth couldn't help but chuckle, which drew a sharp look from Than, who nevertheless turned and seated himself back in the pilot's chair. Kenneth's smile subsided as he caught Braya's eyes, which seemed to be piercing his own as if searching for something hidden within them. After another moment of silence, Braya began to speak.

"I'm going to be honest, Kenneth. I wasn't expecting to bring anyone else back with us. I'm not entirely sure how things are going to proceed from here. What I can tell you is, for the moment, you are technically a prisoner. Anything you choose to say between now and our arrival at Coruscant can either help or hinder your case. I would suggest you stick with the truth. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Kenneth said nothing, his mind still struggling to register the blurred events of the past hour, but offered a nod in response.

"Good," she said, her tone softening just a bit. "So why don't we start with the pirates. Just what the hell happened on those ships?"

Kenneth hesitated for a moment, but quickly decided attempting deceit with a Jedi Knight would profit him nothing, so he told her. He told how he had stowed away upon the smuggler's vessel, of the boarding by _The Seiker _and the subsequent battle that took place. He told her of the onslaught of the whispers in his mind, of the rage he gave in to and, of his murder of remaining men and his escape to Marcellus Prime. He didn't intend to, but he also told her how he had learned of his parents' passing shortly after arriving on the planet, and that he was crushed by the fact he had never offered them a real "good-bye". His eyes welled with tears as he spoke, but he blinked them away, some stubborn sense of pride refusing to break down in front of a stranger.

When Kenneth was finished, Braya Star remained silent for several long moments. He could feel the tension in the air of the vessel, a tangible thing that seemed to blanket the pair and threatened to force the air from Kenneth's lungs. Finally, mercifully, Braya broke the silence.

"I think this is starting to make sense, but I have to tell you this is beyond my experience."

"If I may," Than's voice sounded once more from the cockpit.

"You may not," Braya spat, cutting him off. With an irritated sigh, she turned back to Kenneth. "I'm very sorry for what you've been through, but I'm afraid I don't have much of a choice here, Kenneth. When we arrive at Coruscant I will insist upon a meeting with Master Windrunner." She caught the other's arched brow. "He is a member of the Jedi Council, and the one who sent me out here in the first place," she explained.

"I won't pretend to know what he'll do, but I think it's certain you won't be allowed to just leave."

"Whoa!" Kenneth protested before he could think better of it. "Why the hell not? You can't just hold me in a cell somewhere!"

"Actually, we can," her voice was calm, but threatening. "Try to see it from our point of view. We're spread very thin, with Knights and Masters scattered all across the galaxy. That's no secret."

Kenneth nodded his agreement. He had heard as much in his recent travels.

"Then, suddenly there is a massacre aboard a pair of pirate vessels beyond the Outer Rim in which one man murders nearly two dozen. To make matters worse, that man has more than a decade of training in the Force, and obviously possesses the willingness and the ability to use it. He is intimately familiar with the Dark Side, which is evidenced enough by the aftermath of the pirate attack, and is made more complicated by his own personal history. In short, you are dangerous, Kenneth. You may even be a legitimate threat."

Kenneth started to protest, but Braya raised her hand for silence, which he conceded.

"Again, I don't know how the Council will choose to see it, but I think what I just laid out is a very real possibility." She leaned a little closer. "I don't think you intend to be a threat to anyone."

Kenneth shook his head.

"But that doesn't change the fact there's very convincing evidence that it wouldn't take much to force you to the point where you become a threat. You have to understand that."

Kenneth sighed deeply. He still couldn't believe the turn his life had taken within the last twenty-four hours. Just yesterday, he was nearly home and excited to be so, mere hours away from the normal life he had craved for so long. Since then, he had murdered nearly two dozen men, discovered his parents were gone, had been attacked by a Sith, only to be rescued by a Jedi Knight who had then thrown him into her shuttle and placed him under arrest. The events were an incoherent swirl of despair in his mind, and he tried to force them away.

"I understand," he said weakly. He tried, but couldn't find the words to offer anything more.

"Good," Braya stood, reaching into her robes and producing his lightsaber. "I would give this back to you, but frankly I think it would reflect poorly on me if I brought an armed prisoner before the Council."

Kenneth nodded before standing himself. "I understand. So what do I do now?"

"Well…"

"Shut _up_, Than!"

Kenneth couldn't help but smile again as Braya's voice cut through the cold air.

"I suppose," she said, "you should get some rest. Or you could converse with our resident Sutran." She indicated Than. "But just know that you do so at your own risk."

Kenneth gave a nod, and Braya turned and walked toward the back of the vessel, presumably to get some rest herself. Kenneth envied her, knowing rest was not something he would find right now, but it quickly subsided. With a heavy sigh, he stepped into the cockpit and seated himself next to Than Raven.

"You're not going to incinerate me, are you?" Than bore a smile, but Kenneth wasn't amused in the slightest.

"I don't think so. Not yet, anyway."

"Look," Than said. "I know that you're in a position you probably don't care for, and that you definitely didn't think you'd find yourself in."

"I can see your powers of observation are uncanny," Kenneth said sarcastically.

Than ignored him. "You may as well make the most of it. Besides, it's not all bad."

Kenneth's brow arched. "I'm sorry, but can you point out the part of this that's good?"

"Yeah," Than's smile broadened. "You won't be held in a cell anywhere. The Jedi don't keep prisoners, so to speak."

"What do you mean?"

"The Jedi don't keep prisoners. Instead, Jedi who turn away, or Sith who are captured or try to return to the Order are sent to work camps. If I'm not mistaken, the thought is that they can at least do some good for the Republic by working, versus being locked in a cell at the people's expense with no reciprocation. You see what I'm saying?"

"I suppose."

"Then again, you might get really lucky, but I doubt it."

Kenneth waited for Than to continue. When he didn't, he pressed the issue. "What do you mean, lucky?"

"I don't want to get your hopes up." Than's tone had changed to something bordering sympathetic. "But sometimes, just sometimes, people are allowed to rejoin the Order. Don't bet on it, though. It's only happened once, at least as far as I'm aware, and that was three hundred years ago."

Kenneth didn't say anything. He knew what Than was speaking of. Three hundred years ago, Darth Revan had been captured by a group of Jedi. During the battle, she had been injured in an explosion, and the result was a loss of her memory. After much deliberation, the Council had decided to instate her in the Republic military, and through a series of rather unusual events, she was also accepted into the Jedi Order. Throughout all this, her identity remained lost to her. It wasn't until much later in her search for the Star Forge that she learned the truth, that the Jedi had intentionally manipulated her, hoping bits of her memory would lead them to the Star Forge. No one knew, as far as Kenneth had ever heard, what exactly had become of her. All that was known was Revan had killed Malak in their final battle aboard the Star Forge, before Revan took the vessel herself and disappeared.

"I don't see how I could get lucky, Than," he stated plainly. "I can't offer the Jedi anything nearly as valuable as the Star Forge."

"Maybe so," Than conceded. "But these are desperate times for the Jedi. Desperate times, they say, call for desperate measures. Maybe you'll get lucky."

"Yeah," Kenneth said, though his voice didn't hide his disbelief. "Maybe I'll get lucky."


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

Kenneth Aeris stood in awed silence within the cockpit of _The Endeavor_, overtaken with the beauty of the Republic's capital as the ship made its descent.

As far as the eye could see, towering structures which reached into the clouds populated the landscape, illuminated by what must have been millions of light strips lining their frames, granting the illusion that the entire planet glowed in the dying light of dusk. Thousands of speeders filled the evening sky, many zipping by and blaring horns as they narrowly escaped the path of the shuttle making its way through the bustle. Less than a mile ahead, the Jedi Temple stood out among even the most impressive of skyscrapers. Its aged spires reached silently toward the heavens, the great Watchers of the impenetrable fortress of the Jedi.

"Kenneth Aeris," Braya said quietly. "Welcome to the Temple of the Jedi."

As _The Endeavor _made its slow descent to the landing pad, Kenneth could see a handful of people making their way into and out of the great structure, a few pausing to glance their direction, but most continuing with their own business, ignorant of the situation unfolding above them.

The vessel touched the landing pad and came to rest with a gentle rock. The sharp hiss of the hydraulics system releasing rang out, and the hum of the engines slowly faded to silence. Within the cockpit, the trio exchanged silent glances, none of them certain how the next few hours would unfold. They turned in unison and prepared to exit the ship.

"In all seriousness, Kenneth," Than Raven's voice cut through the icy silence of the cabin. "I think it would be best if we kept this as simple as possible." His glance shifted to Braya. "The more cooperative he is; more importantly, the more cooperative he _appears_; the greater his chances of leniency will be. Wouldn't you agree?"

Braya nodded, and guided Kenneth into position as she spoke. "Keep your hands free at your sides where they can be seen. Stay between Than and I at all times. Don't speak unless spoken to, and most importantly, remember that you are in the halls of the Jedi, and you will be in the presence of the governing body of the entire Order. It's important you show them the utmost respect. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Kenneth said faintly. He was nearly overrun with anxiety. His stomach was turned into knots, his legs unstable at best, and his mind was swimming with a vicious mixture of emotions. The chief amongst them was fear, and he knew he was doing a poor job at hiding it.

"There is no emotion," Braya said gently.

"There is only peace," Than completed, placing a reassuring hand on Kenneth's shoulder.

The youth nodded and straightened himself with a sigh, trying to gather his well of emotions and lock them away deep inside himself as the shuttle door opened slowly. The trio stepped off the ship in single-file with Braya in the lead, remaining in that fashion as they approached the doors which would take them into the Temple proper. A single Jedi Knight stood near the door. Upon the group's approach, he stepped toward them quickly and offered a low bow in greeting, which was returned by all three.

"Master Braya," the Knight said, his voice containing more than a hint of urgency. "I have been asked to inform you and your…companions…that Master Windrunner is waiting for you in the Council Chambers."

"I understand," Braya replied. She glanced over her shoulder at Kenneth, as if to take a measure of his resolve. Apparently satisfied, she turned back to the Knight. "We're on our way."

The Knight offered another bow before he turned and entered the Temple. Braya turned to face Kenneth.

"Well, that happened a little faster than I thought it might."

Kenneth said nothing, his gaze locked onto Braya like a lost Tauntaun.

"There's nothing to worry about yet. I don't think Master Windrunner will decide anything without first consulting the other Council members. For now, just remember what I told you and be respectful." She waited a moment for Kenneth to nod his understanding, then turned and led the trio into the Temple.

Their footsteps echoed loudly throughout the empty stone halls as they made their way slowly toward the center of the structure. Kenneth felt insignificant within the monolithic structure. The weight of its history, its significance, its very essence, dwarfed the young man as he allowed himself to be led like a drone. He wished silently for Braya or Than to break the silence, to say something that might ease his nerves, but his hope went unanswered.

In the center of the common area was a large glass elevator which led to each level of the temple, all the way to the Council Chambers at the very top of the center spire. Kenneth noted that, despite the relatively early hour, the elevator was not in use. _As a matter of fact_, he thought, looking a little closer, _it's like everyone is avoiding it_.

"Yes," Braya's voice shook him from his ponderings. "Your observation is correct. We are expected, after all."

Kenneth said nothing as he followed the Knight onto the large platform, making a mental note to ask her how she did that so quickly.

A slight whirring sound began beneath their feet as the engines operating the platform powered on, and the elevator lurched slightly as it began its ascent. A fresh wave of fear and anxiety began to wash over Kenneth as they drew closer to the Council Chambers with every second. He closed his eyes, reaching out to the Force to calm his mind and his spirit. He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and a relieved sigh escaped his lips as he felt his anxiety began to melt. He didn't bother to see whose hand it was, he was grateful for the gesture.

Several moments later, Kenneth felt the elevator slow to a halt and heard the glass doors open in front of him. Opening his eyes slowly, he found himself facing a set of humbly-decorated double doors. Braya turned to look at him.

"Are you ready?" she asked, the concern in her tone genuine.

Kenneth forced a weak smile. "Not really, but yeah."

Braya smiled in turn, and beckoned for him to follow as she stepped toward the doors. They slid open at her approach, and the trio stepped into a large circular chamber. The first thing Kenneth noticed was the large window circling the room, which gave a breathtaking panoramic view of the city. The second thing he noticed was not one, but three high-backed chairs in the center of the room. The third thing he noticed was the fact that each one was occupied.

Braya was apparently caught by surprise as well, because she came to an abrupt halt after only a few steps. Than bumped into Kenneth's because of the unexpected stop, but Kenneth pretended not to notice. His focus now was on Braya, his own level of confusion now immeasurable, looking to her for some sort of guidance as to what was happening or what to do next. Braya quickly composed herself, and offered a low bow to the three seated before them, which Kenneth gratefully mimicked.

"Masters," Braya greeted, her tone betraying a hint of confusion.

"Welcome home, Master Braya," one of the men answered. He was a short man of average build with short brown hair and skin like tanned leather. If he remembered Braya's description correctly, this was Jedi Master Mars Windrunner, the man Braya had studied under as a Padawan, and the most powerful Jedi in the Order, save for its leader. The man's piercing blue eyes glanced at Kenneth, who shrank back involuntarily, knowing instinctively the man was already taking his measure. Thankfully, he quickly returned his gaze to Braya, and the discomfort subsided.

"Master Windrunner," Braya began, her effort at maintaining an indifferent tone glaringly apparent even to Kenneth. "I don't understand. I thought we would only be meeting with you."

"I understand," the brown-haired man answered, "and I'm sorry. But it was a necessary precaution which I'll explain at a later time. For now, you and Than can wait outside." His expression made it painfully obvious that he neither expected, nor would tolerate any discussion on the matter. Braya and Than exchanged quick looks before turning and walking out of the room. Kenneth remained silent, forcing himself to look ahead as he heard the doors behind him open and close. When they did, Master Windrunner addressed him.

"What is your name?"

Kenneth took a deep, steadying breath. "Kenneth Aeris."

"Very well," the other said. "As you may have guessed, I am Master Mars Windrunner. And this," he indicated the dark-skinned Iridonian male and striking blue-skinned Twi'lek female seated to his left, "is Master Bole Akkad and Master Nileah Trefen." The two nodded in turn. "We represent the governing body of the Jedi Order." His expression changed suddenly, becoming stern. "Where are you from, Kenneth?"

"Marcellus Prime," his voice trailed off, still trying to discern the reason for the apparent change of plans.

"We deemed it a necessary deception, Kenneth," Master Trefen said, her voice as easy and graceful as her posture. "But that will be addressed later."

"Keep your thoughts here and now, boy," Master Akkad cut in, his voice deep and raspy, "where they belong."

Kenneth nodded, and awaited the next question. It came from Master Windrunner.

"What can you tell us about yourself, Kenneth?"

The other Masters leaned forward slightly, their eyes narrowed on him as they waited for his testimony. Afraid to keep them waiting, Kenneth sighed, and began to speak. He told them everything, beginning with his childhood on Marcellus Prime, through his work in the mines and subsequent discovery of his abilities. He took his time depicting his training under Grajam Demmuur, going into detail about the philosophies he learned, the exercises and tasks he took part in, and the fateful night he had attacked the fallen Jedi. He spoke then of the next five years of his life. He chronicled the travels from one system to the next, often stealing what he needed to survive, often performing tasks ranging from maintenance to assassinations to pay for his keep. Throughout his retelling, the Jedi Masters remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts as they paid close attention to each word Kenneth spoke.

He could feel their prodding, their attempts to delve into his mind, determined to get to the truth – not just of his tale, but of his character – as quickly as they could. As he continued to speak, Kenneth allowed their intrusions, lowering the guard on his mind and giving the Masters full access to his every thought. His tale concluded a few minutes later, with the recounting of his meeting with Braya on Marcellus Prime, and the subsequent battle with the Sith warrior and their flight to Coruscant. When he had finished, it was a long time before anyone spoke.

"This voice," Master Akkad broke the silence, "these whispers you speak of. You only experience them in times of great stress?"

Kenneth paused, a bit taken by the question. In truth, it was something he had never given any thought to. In fact, it was something he tried very hard to _avoid_ thinking of. Finally, he gave a slight nod. "Mostly, yes. But sometimes, although it's not very often, it just seems to come out of nowhere, for no reason."

Master Trefen spoke next. "When you have these…experiences…are you ever able to shut the whispers out?"

Kenneth nodded quickly. "Yes. But," his gaze fell to the floor, "not most of the time. When I can, it's just so difficult. It takes every amount of concentration I can muster. It, it's hard to explain. It…"

"Yes?" Master Windrunner prodded.

"It hurts me when I shut them out," he finally answered. "It's like an unquenchable burning in my mind. I can't think, I can barely breathe, I just…hurt." The three Jedi Masters exchanged looks that made Kenneth uneasy all over again. He took another deep breath and tried, but failed, to force the feeling away.

"Just one more question." It was Master Nileah Trefen who spoke. "Let me first warn you to be mindful of your answer. Do not attempt any duplicity. We will sense it in a moment."

Kenneth nodded his understanding. He had no desire to test her statement.

"Very well," she continued. "If you could rid yourself of these whispers, of their influence, would you have it so?"

"Yes," Kenneth answered more enthusiastically than he had intended to. He didn't miss the hint of a smile this caused Master Trefen, which she quickly put away before continuing.

"You would do anything to do so?"

"Yes."

"You would pay any price?"

"Yes!" Kenneth stopped himself, and uttered a weak apology, Braya's warning to show respect quickly coming to mind. He was beginning to feel like she didn't believe him, and he found that nearly infuriating.

The three Jedi exchanged meaningful glances for several agonizingly silent moments. Kenneth's palms began to sweat, his mind racing along any number of possible outcomes, suddenly growing nauseous as he pondered the possibilities, unable to direct his mind elsewhere. None of the outcomes he could imagine were favorable.

"Very well," Master Akkad said forcefully. "You've given us much to discuss. For now, rejoin Braya and Than outside. Stay with them until we summon you. Do we understand each other?" His gaze contained a thinly veiled threat.

"Yes, Master Akkad. We understand each other."

With that, Master Akkad waved Kenneth away. The youth offered a low bow in respect, although the gesture felt terribly awkward to him, before turning and walking through the double doors and out of the Council Chambers.


	9. Chapter 9

"What did they say?" The question practically burst from Than Raven's lips, his tone very much like that of an inquisitive child. Braya stood silently at Than's shoulder, her delicate features drawn tight in genuine concern.

"Kenneth shook his head, his fear and disappointment plain. "They didn't say anything. They just told me to wait out here until they called."

Than threw up his hands, shaking his head. Braya motioned to a group of padded chairs off to the side, and sat down next to Kenneth. Than declined, and began to pace the floor.

Braya and Kenneth sat in silence for a moment, and then with a sigh Braya began to speak. "For what it's worth, Kenneth, I truly am sorry things have gone they way they have for you. The things you experienced when you were young, during your time with Grajam, and everything after and in between … it's not fair. You have endured things no one should have to face. Now, you've been plucked from your home again and taken across the galaxy to the Republic's capital, and your future rests in the hands of people you've never met."

Kenneth started to speak, but a hand from Braya cut him short. "Just let me finish," she said. "I know you didn't want any of this to happen. I know you didn't plan on it. This is probably the last place you thought you would ever be sitting."

Kenneth nodded, but didn't interrupt.

"You need to understand that the Council won't do anything without weighing all the possibilities, and all of their consequences. Everything they do, they do for the greater good of the Republic, and the entire galaxy. It will be no different here. Whatever their decision may be, you have to know it's for the best, and accept it.

"I just want you to know that I'm sorry for the role I've played in the upheaval of your life. I know you went back home to live quietly, to get away from the demons that have haunted you for so long. I understand how close you were to having what you wanted, and I'm sorry I had a hand in taking it from you. But things are not always in our control. We have to realize that some things, no matter how painful or difficult, must be left up to the will of the Force."

Kenneth found himself suddenly fighting back tears. Everything was still being processed by his mind, and none of it yet seemed real. He felt completely hopeless in the face of his present circumstances, and was infuriated that there was apparently nothing he could do about it. It wasn't fair. Braya was right about that much.

His mind drifted to the discussion he imagined would be going on now within the Council Chambers, carried on by people who had no idea who he was. They might mean well, but it wasn't his best interest they had in mind. It was everyone else's, and the notion that he was thought so little of drove his anger. Kenneth realized suddenly his fists were clenched, his fingernails digging into his palms and his knuckles turned white. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, feeling his anger melt away as he went deep inside himself to force it out. It did not disappear, but it diminished considerably, to the point that he could at least manage it.

Braya seemed to notice this and gave him a reassuring smile. Than, for his part, continued to pace the floor, oblivious to everything but his need to know how things would unfold from here.

"You can't be serious!" Master Akkad's voice echoed throughout the circular chamber.

"I am," Master Windrunner, the object of Akkad's current outburst, replied calmly. "I understand your concerns, Master Akkad. I share them, as well. But given our current predicament, I don't think we can afford to dismiss it out of hand."

"It's too dangerous!" Akkad raised his voice now, trying to contain the anger he felt welling up within.

"He's right, Master Akkad," Nileah Trefen spoke up. "We know there are risks, and we know what those risks are, but if we can gain another ally against the Sith, we can't refuse it. If nothing else, we would at least have help with the menial tasks of the Order. That alone would be of tremendous help."

"Exactly," Mars weighed in, refusing to let any momentum their argument may be gaining slip away. "The members still residing here can barely cope with their daily responsibilities, and have been struggling with them for weeks. If we could relieve even a single aspect of those chores, it would allow some of our Knight to pursue much more important tasks."

"And at the very lest," Nileah continued, "we could watch him far more closely here than any guard on Kessel or Mulduria."

"With our attention already spread so thin?" Now it was Master Akkad's turn. "I sincerely doubt it." He stood up, turning to face the other two. "I understand your points and, barring any negative side effects, I concede that what you propose would be immensely helpful. But no one can ensure there will be no negative side effects. And furthermore," he was beginning to calm himself now, "what you are suggesting goes against thousands of years of tradition and guidelines. Guidelines which, I may remind you, were put into place for good reason."

Akkad let the silence hang over the room for a moment, watching Mars' and Nileah's reactions, trying to get a sense of their thoughts. He thought perhaps they might be persuaded, but wasn't so foolish as to speak for them, nor was he so disrespectful as to probe their thoughts. Instead, once he was certain his point had been made clearly, he returned to his seat.

"If I may, Master Akkad," Nileah spoke up. "It has been done before."

A flash of anger flashed across the old man's face. "That was a far different set of circumstances, Master Trefen. Not to mention it was hundreds of years ago, and very nearly ended in the destruction of the Jedi Order itself. Do not presume there are any similarities between the two scenarios."

"Actually," Mars broke in, "That's not necessarily true."

Akkad's grayed eyebrow arched inquisitively. "Go on," he said irritably. I'm listening."

"With all due respect, I should think it would be rather obvious. We have before us a potentially dangerous individual trained in the ways of the Force. Able, though perhaps not willing, to employ the powers of the Dark Side. This individual also suffers from an identity crisis of sorts, unsure of who and what he is after the injuries he has sustained – although his are psychological – in the course of his battles."

Mars leaned forward, his voice turning stern. "The Jedi Council on Dantooine faced a nearly identical decision, Master Akkad. A decision as to whether they should permit such a potentially dangerous individual into their midst in order to achieve objectives for the greater good of the Republic. Their decision saved the Jedi Order."

"How can you say that?" Akkad's anger began to rise once more. "Revan was a Dark Lord of the Sith, loyal only to herself! She was a cold-blooded murderer!"

"Then why," Nileah said, "did she disappear? She engaged Malak in combat."

"An action based solely on her own selfish need for vengeance," Akkad cut in.

"Maybe so," Nileah conceded. "But if she was driven by a selfish need for vengeance, why did she not then seek vengeance on the Jedi? She had more than sufficient reason, and yet she did not pursue it. Instead, she took the Star Forge and disappeared, leaving the Jedi and her chance for revenge behind. She ended the threat posed by Darth Malak and, whether she intended to or not, saved the Republic from what would have certainly been an all-encompassing massacre."

Akkad started to protest, but stopped himself. Even though he would wish it otherwise, he knew Nileah Trefen was right. There were many who would say the Jedi Council's manipulation and use of Revan so many years before had been their greatest mistake. The truth of the matter, however, was quite the opposite. He sighed deeply, tired now of the discussion, painfully aware he would only be delaying the inevitable if it continued.

Gathering his robes about him, Akkad stood slowly and turned to face Mars and Nileah. "Very well," he said softly, with a barely perceptible nod of his head. "I do not like this proposal. I want that made very clear."

The others nodded their acceptance.

"However, I am not so blinded by that dislike or by my own caution that I cannot see the truth of your arguments." He was silent for several moments. "So be it. Kenneth Aeris will be given the opportunity to prove himself."

A thin smile played across the thin lips of Nileah Trefen.

"However," Akkad continued, causing the Twi'lek's smile to fade. "I also want it known that, should my apprehensions prove well-founded, I will take no responsibility for their ramifications. That will rest squarely on your shoulders. Am I understood?"

The others agreed he was.

"Very well. It seems we have just one final question to address," he said quietly. "How should he be allowed to prove himself?"

He had barely finished the question before Mars Windrunner stood and spoke. "I'm glad you asked, Master Akkad. As it happens, I believe I have an answer."


	10. Chapter 10

The night hung heavily over Korriban, an impenetrable tarp that blanketed the planet as if poised to smother the stone structures and desert hills. The moons shone dimly in the distance, their brilliance oddly diminished by that of the millions of stars which twinkled along the celestial canvas, casting long shadows throughout the Valley of the Dark Lords as their light danced around the towering stone visages of Sith Lords long dead and gone. No wind blew this night, the air hot and still, lending the claustrophobic feel of a tomb to the open valley. Rhyke Elkin stood at the mouth of the valley, his back to it, ignoring the scene around him as he took a deep, steadying breath before entering the long stone corridor which provided entrance to the Sith Academy.

He walked slowly, but with purpose, aware of the need to exude confidence and authority to the other members of the Academy, given recent circumstances. The First Lieutenant of the Sith Order went now to speak with its leader, and it was not a meeting he was looking forward to. In fact, though he would never admit it, the thought of facing Lord Malice in his current predicament left him nauseous with fear. Marcellus Prime had been an utter disaster, and Rhyke had no one to blame but himself. As of yet, no one else was privy to the knowledge of his failure, but it wouldn't do to return to Korriban with the appearance of a beaten dog. There were many within the Order who sought his position, and giving them any indication of something amiss was a mistake that could quickly prove deadly. Breathing deeply, he seized his fear in an iron grip and went deep within himself, burying that fear in the deepest recesses of his being and walling it away.

The only sound within the corridor was that of his leather boots on the ancient stone floor, and the crackle of flames from torches lining the chamber. Dark robes billowed behind him as he stepped into the temple proper. The great chamber was empty, save for a handful of students scattered throughout, engaged in practice of various lightsaber forms. A few looked towards Rhyke as he entered the chamber, and the Sith lieutenant raised his hood as he walked by, an open display of indifference to their presence, and an indication that he had no desire to be approached. He could feel their gaze upon him as he passed, could sense their ambitions to replace him, then they quickly fell away as the students returned to their activities.

Rhyke found himself smiling in spite of the circumstance, reminiscing on his own tenure in the Sith Order. After the Jedi had refused to train him, his parents had been devastated. They had spent their last credit to deliver their son to Coruscant, their hearts and minds heavy with the knowledge that it was the only chance their son would have for a better life than they could provide. In his life as a Jedi, Rhyke would face innumerable dangers. They knew this, as did he. But they knew also that he would never suffer for food or clothing, or a roof over his head that didn't buckle under a harsh wind or a slight downpour. While they could provide none of these things for their son, the Jedi Order could.

They had been convinced that his gifts would be obvious to the Council, and that their son would be accepted as a great benefit to the Order. Yet none of it came to pass. They departed Coruscant broken and destitute, without the means to even return home. Over the course of a few weeks, they eventually did so, only by the grace of a few strangers willing to lend what help they could. Still, when they returned home, they had been unable to recover any of their financial losses, and Rhyke Elkin had for weeks eaten alone at their meager table. The pitiful meals never sated his own hunger, and the boy had watched in anguish as his parents slowly starved to death. He would never forget it.

He had awoken one morning only to find that his parents had not, and still he did not possess the words to express what that had done to his young psyche. He had buried their bodies himself, rather unceremoniously, and had vowed at that moment to have his vengeance on the Jedi for the death of his parents. With a boy's determination, he set about training, strengthening his abilities through various exercises he devised to the best of his young ability. Then as if by fate, less than three months later he heard mention in a local cantina that the Sith Academy on Korriban had reopened. A man who called himself Nekron had taken residence, and was spreading word throughout the galaxy in search of students. Rhyke Elkin saw his chance, and wasted no time answering the call.

He had excelled quickly, exhibiting a ferocity in his studies rivaled by no other student. His power grew immensely, fueled by his anger at the Jedi and his need for vengeance, and as a direct result nearly a dozen students had met violent ends at his hand during training exercises. This gained him a place of esteem within the academy, and soon Darth Nekron himself took Rhyke as his personal apprentice, placing the youth in a position of authority within the Order of the Sith. Nekron was an incredibly powerful warrior, and Rhyke's power increased exponentially under his tutelage.

Things had changed, however, nearly five years later. That was when the man called Malice had arrived. Lord Nekron had scoffed when the one-armed human entered the academy unannounced and openly challenged Nekron to a duel in front of the whole of the order. Many of the students had scoffed as well, but Rhyke Elkin was not one of those. He could sense something in the stranger that gave him pause. His intuition was proven correct when Darth Nekron was brutally beaten beyond recognition and dismembered in short order by the newcomer. When the short-lived battle was over, the victor stood before the awed assembly of students and made a very brief announcement.

"From this day forth, you shall know me as Darth Malice, Dark Lord of the Sith, and ruler of the Sith Order. Any objection will be interpreted as treason, and consequences will be incurred. I trust that I am understood"

Silence had hung over the hall, and the new Dark Lord seemed satisfied his point was made.

Later that evening, Rhyke Elkin had been summoned into the Master's chambers, where he was informed that he alone would be granted the opportunity to retain his post as lieutenant, if he would accept it. Malice explained that he had watched Rhyke's reaction carefully, and that he had shown considerable perception while the others had pitifully underestimated the appearance of an apparently handicapped man challenging the resident Sith Lord. He knew of Rhyke's desire for vengeance, and Malice would help him obtain it. The young man had accepted with a bow and been dismissed. That was three years ago.

Rhyke Elkin forced the thoughts away as he approached Malice's chamber, admonishing himself for dwelling on the past. The present, and its benefit to his own quest for power, was all that mattered now. Not to mention, he thought bitterly, saving his own skin.

After taking a final moment to compose himself, he stepped boldly into the dimly lit chamber. Lord Malice sat in a high backed stone seat resembling a throne, his back to the room's entrance. A hazy blue glow emanated from in front of the Sith Lord, casting a long shadow along the cracked stone floor. Faint voices, barely more than whispers, echoed through the small enclosure, and Rhyke recognized them instantly as those contained within one of Malice's many holocrons. How the Master had amassed such a collection was something Rhyke had never discovered, though he was certain this library was the primary source of the Dark Lord's vast power.

He stood in silence several moments as he waited for Lord Malice to conclude his consultation of the holocrons. The silence weighed heavily on him, and soon he began to feel claustrophobic, small and insignificant in the presence of the other man. He battled silently with these notions for a time before finally burying them deep within his mind. Once he had done so, as if on cue, Lord Malice stood and slowly turned to face him.

Black robes billowed about him as he did so, obscuring the shadow generated by the holocron's glow before it faded to nothing. His face was almost completely hidden within the shadow of his cowl, leaving only a thin line of a mouth visible as the Dark Lord took a step forward, and Rhyke greeted his Master with a low bow. When he straightened, Lord Malice was only a foot away, and though he could not see them, he could _feel_ the other's eyes upon him, searching him through to his very soul.

"I trust you have an adequate explanation, my apprentice." His voice was flat and granular, and Rhyke never felt the other's gaze falter.

"I suppose that remains to be seen, my Lord," he replied, as boldly as he could manage.

Malice took one step backward and turned, seating himself on his crumbled throne. "I must confess I admire your honesty. There are not many who would answer so directly."

Rhyke nodded, but said nothing. In his current situation, when even the truth was likely to get you killed, what was the sense in lying? But he kept the thought to himself.

"Tell me," Lord Malice continued. "How is it that you managed to return to Korriban bereft of your target? Please tell me you at least laid eyes on our mysterious murderer."

Rhyke hesitated a moment, trying to weigh his options, but quickly decided his only recourse was to remain honest. It would not soften the blow of his failure, but perhaps Lord Malice would at least respect the absence of attempted deception. So he related the tale, taking care not to leave out any detail. He spoke of the journey to Marcellus Prime, which had passed without incident. He detailed his tracking of the assailant, a simple matter that had encompassed only a few hours. Then he related the confrontation in the Calbach cantina, and the unexpected presence of a Jedi Knight who had somehow gotten to the boy before Rhyke had. He quickly provided Lord Malice with a detailed description of the youth's appearance, as well as the other's actions during the impromptu duel which had lead to the Sith lieutenant's defeat.

Darth Malice listened to all Rhyke had to say without comment, eyes locked on his apprentice as he spoke. He lowered his hood at one point, lost in thought as Rhyke described the boy. His eyes widened as recognition settled in, though if the other realized it he had wisely kept it to himself and finished his tale. When it was finally finished, it was a long time before Malice broke the silence.

"While the fact that you did not return with this boy is a bitter disappointment, to say the least, I must admit your journey has not resulted in a complete loss, as I initially feared."

Rhyke said nothing but his brow arched inquisitively. Malice seemed to notice, and permitted himself to smile. "I now know the identity of the perpetrator beyond any shadow of a doubt. However," his smile faded as he slowly stood. "You must hear what I am about to say, and you must accept it."

The other nodded, and Malice continued. "If this boy is in the hands of the Jedi, that does not bode well for us. He would be a very powerful ally for them."

"My Lord," Rhyke interrupted before he could think better of it. He paused a moment, waiting for Malice to permit him to speak. Surprisingly, he did so, and Rhyke continued. "I don't understand your meaning. If the boy is in the hands of the Jedi, they will know he was responsible for the deaths near the Outer Rim, and they will treat him accordingly. He will be kept under guard as a menial servant or sent off-world, perhaps to the mines of Kessel to be put to work."

Malice nodded slightly. "Fifty years ago, perhaps, you would be correct. That is not necessarily the case now. With the Republic's expansion, the Jedi find themselves spread thin. Although their numbers are sizeable, they are scattered across the galaxy, and currently there are no more than one hundred Jedi inhabiting the Temple on Coruscant. We cannot discount the possibility that this will make them desperate. They will sense the boy's power, and may be tempted – and even persuaded – to attempt to turn him toward their own causes. If they were to succeed, the boy would be extremely dangerous."

"My Lord," Rhyke spoke up again, more boldly this time. "I will admit I allowed myself to be distracted in battle against the Jedi, but the boy alone is no threat to me, let alone to yourself or the entirety of the Sith Order."

"He is exactly that and much more!" Malice was suddenly furious, and Rhyke shrunk back from his Master involuntarily. "You have no idea of the latent power the boy possesses, lurking just beneath the surface. The boy is full of anger, hate, and despair. The Jedi will never be able to drive it from him completely. Those emotions make him powerful beyond anything you have ever experienced, Rhyke Elkin. What's more, those emotions are righteous, forced upon him against his will by circumstances beyond his control which only serve to feed the beast he tries vainly to lock within. On his own, the boy possesses the power to confront, and likely defeat us, if he so desired. With the influence of the Jedi and the honing of his raw talent into true, disciplined skill, overcoming him may prove to be an impossibility."

Rhyke Elkin stood silently for several moments, mulling over the words of his Master. He could not find it within himself to believe the boy he had seen was as dangerous as Lord Malice had stated. Yet the Dark Lord of the Sith clearly believed it to be so, and was equally clearly troubled by it. Forcing the conflict away, he determined to accept his Lord's word, regardless of his own opinions. Of all the things which could be said about Rhyke Elkin, that he did not know his place was not among them. Finally, he nodded his agreement, and Lord Malice seated himself once more.

"How would you have us proceed, my Lord?"

The Sith Lord stared silently at nothing, lost in thought and in the implications of this newfound revelation. When his internal debate had ended, his gaze shifted to his lieutenant. "I believe our time of silence has come to an end. We have built and trained our forces long enough. It is time to engage the Jedi."

It was all Rhyke Elkin could do to suppress a smile.

"Our opportunity," Malice continued, "has been approaching for a long time. The Jedi have never been so thin, so vulnerable, and now if we move quickly we can destroy them from the inside out. I want our students informed, and I want them organized into small units, no more than a dozen for each. Assign commanders from our ranks to each unit, and have them ready for my orders by week's end."

"Yes, Master," Rhyke smiled freely and offered a short bow. "And what of the boy?"

Malice stood slowly and took a step toward his lieutenant. "I want him brought to me. Alive." He paused for a moment, letting the last word hang on the air. "I will leave the details to your own discretion."

"Understood, my Lord." Rhyke Elkin bowed low and turned to exit the chamber.

"Wait." Malice's voice echoed through the small chamber, and Rhyke stopped midstride, turning to face his Master.

The Sith Lord approached him, reaching into his robes. "I would bequeath to you a gift of sorts, a tool to aid you in the coming battle." He withdrew his hand, and held forth a small crystal which was melded to a chain. Its deep crimson surface glimmered faintly from within itself, as a pond continuously pelted by rain, and Rhyke could _feel _the power emanating from it, could almost see the ripples it created in the Force as it was passed to his hand.

Elkin's eyes widened as he felt the Force magnify within his body as he took possession of the crystal, an odd surge of nausea that was nevertheless exhilarating as it reverberated throughout his body. His smile widened, betraying his sense of wonder as he placed the chain around his neck and looked to Malice. "Is that…"

"Precisely," Malice replied. "A Kyber crystal. Incredibly powerful talismans created by the Rodar wizards of Perdonis nearly ten millennia ago. It will serve you well, my apprentice."

Rhyke managed to contain himself as he bowed once more. "Thank you, my Lord."

With that, Lord Malice gave him a nod, and the Sith lieutenant turned and stepped boldly from the chamber, hardly able to believe the more-than-favorable outcome of the meeting he had feared. Armoring himself with his newfound confidence, eager to get operations underway, he went to rouse the students from their slumber.

At long last the Jedi would fall, and Rhyke Elkin would have his vengeance.


	11. Chapter 11

The trio that had journeyed to Coruscant from the distant planet of Marcellus Prime was silent in the hall outside the Council Chamber. Than Raven and Kenneth Aeris paced slowly, while Braya remained seated on a small cushioned bench on the opposite side of the hall. None of them spoke, all lost in their separate thoughts, each of them growing weary from the journey, but unable to even entertain the thought of sleep. The anticipation in the air was heavy. It hung amongst the three like a thick, rolling fog, penetrating their minds and seizing their thoughts, consuming them with the need for the wait to end.

When the mechanical whir of the door opening broke the silence, it started each of them. Braya bolted to stand, quickly straightening her robes as Than and Kenneth both snapped their heads around to face the door. Master Windrunner was standing in the doorway, his face an expressionless mask as he took a step forward, his focus on the Sutran and the quasi-Jedi.

"We will speak to Braya for a moment. Alone." He let his gaze linger a moment, making certain the two men had understood him clearly. Turning to face Braya, the Jedi Master beckoned his former apprentice to follow him into the chambers.

Kenneth felt the flash of uncertainty in her mind, but it disappeared just as quickly. Without even a glance at Kenneth or Than, the Knight fell into step behind Master Windrunner, disappearing into the chamber as the door closed once more

The moment Master Windrunner spoke of proved to take nearly an hour.

Than and Kenneth remained silent, content with staring out the windows to behold the beauty just beyond. Kenneth worried periodically that Than would be unable to maintain his silence, and waited with a feeling that bordered on anguish for the Sutran to speak up with some ill-conceived joke or unnecessary comment on the present situation. He did neither, for which Kenneth was eternally grateful.

His own thoughts swirled through his mind unchecked, an unruly barrage of emotions and memories. He found himself once again wondering how his life had taken such a drastic turn. Why was it he would not be allowed to live out a quiet, normal life as he had intended? He had spent years in exile, trying desperately to find his place in the galaxy, to reconcile the manipulation he had suffered at the hands of Grajam Demmurr.

Kenneth could still see his face, at once twisted in anger and self-righteousness, in the next instant overcome with unexpected terror as the boy had attacked. He could still hear the choked shrieks of the old man as his arm was severed from his body. He could feel the hot, shallow breath on his neck as he bore his master to the ground and struck him down. He could feel the hatred that had consumed him.

Kenneth Aeris was hopeless. The tides of fate would flow, and thrash and struggle as he might, they would ultimately carry him where they would.

"Kenneth!" The call of his name snapped him back to reality.

Braya stood beside the door, her posture indicating that had not been the first time she had called his name.

How long had she been there?

He straightened himself and stepped toward her. "What is it?" He just narrowly disguised the anxiety in his tone.

If Braya sensed it, she ignored it. Her expression didn't change as she said, "They will see you now." She shot a look at Than. "You are invited, as well, if you wish."

Neither man said a word, but followed obediently as she led them once more into the Council Chamber.

The three Masters of the Jedi Council were seated as they had been, waiting silently. Master Akkad's countenance had darkened noticeably, and Kenneth wondered briefly what had the Jedi so disturbed, but quickly brushed it aside. Master Nileah Trefen bore a slight but warm smile, giving Kenneth a brief nod in greeting as he was led before them. Only Master Windrunner remained expressionless, his vaguely lined face revealing nothing of the thoughts of the mind within.

Braya bowed low in greeting, which Kenneth awkwardly followed. Master Windrunner wasted no time, speaking before Kenneth had straightened.

"After much deliberation amongst ourselves, as well as consultation with Braya and the other Council members via the Holonet, we have come to a decision. However," he paused for just a moment, his gaze fixed on Kenneth as if taking the young man's measure. "Whether that decision is enforced will be left to you."

Kenneth, Braya, and Than all exchanged looks of confusion. Kenneth began to take a step forward to address the Council. But before he could speak, Master Akkad held up one gnarled hand. "I want you to understand, young Aeris, that while I accept this decision, I do not necessarily agree with it. I think it is extremely dangerous for all involved."

Kenneth said nothing, but gave an uncertain nod.

"We have decided," Master Trefen spoke now, "to grant you a position within the Jedi Order, as the Padawan learner of Jedi Knight Braya Star."

Kenneth's eyes grew wide, and an almost overwhelming wave of excitement flooded his mind. He did little to hide his elation, and at the moment didn't care. He looked to Braya to offer his abundant appreciation, but stopped himself when he saw her eyes were still locked forward. He calmed himself, and returned his own gaze to the Council.

"However," Nileah continued. "This is dependent upon your willingness to forge a connection with her beyond that which is normal observed between master and pupil."

Kenneth's brow arched inquisitively, but he remained quiet.

Master Akkad spoke now. "Master Braya has agreed to forge a connection with you known as a Force Bond. Perhaps you know something of them from your former…_master_?" The last word was spit from his mouth as if it pained him to say it.

Kenneth quickly shook his head. Grajam had mentioned the term on one or two occasions, but had never gone into any depth or offered any explanation.

"A Force Bond," Master Windrunner said, "forms naturally over time between student and teacher. It is a powerful link through which two – and sometimes more – Jedi to influence each other. The Force flows easily through such connections, allowing one to strengthen the other, or to draw upon their strength. Most importantly, it allows the communication of feelings, thoughts, and images to flow between those who are bound. Even across great distances, this exchange is almost instantaneous, and allows the two to know what the other is thinking without consciously searching. It also allows the pair to essentially feel what the other is feeling." He paused for just a moment. "Emotionally, and physically."

Kenneth said nothing, but could feel his smile fade. He was suddenly very uncomfortable with this notion. He didn't care at all for the idea that Braya would share his every thought and emotion.

"It doesn't quite work that way," Braya suddenly cut in, and Kenneth quelled his presumptions. "Think of it more like an alarm system," she continued. "In times of distress, your feelings and your thoughts will instantly sound in my own mind, and likewise mine in yours."

"Kind of like a spiritual buddy system," Than suddenly cut it, that familiar annoying grin on his face.

Silence hung over the chamber for a moment. The others were clearly not amused, and Than's smile quickly faded as he regained his composure.

"Master Windrunner?" Kenneth finally mustered the courage to speak. "Can I ask why this stipulation has been added?"

Master Windrunner offered a slight smile before answering. "Through this Bond, Braya will be able to monitor your emotional state whenever it becomes necessary. Should you be assaulted by these…" he paused. "Urges…Braya will sense it immediately, and she will be able to lend her strength to your own, that you may be able to force them aside."

"This is the only way we can we can have any resemblance of certainty that your emotions can be kept in check," Master Trefen offered.

_You mean it's the only way you can keep me on a leash_, Kenneth thought, and immediately regretted it.

"Mind your thoughts, boy," Master Akkad urged, placing special emphasis on the last word.

"The time for debate is over," Mars cut in. "We have given this careful consideration, Kenneth. A hundred years ago, you would've been sent to work in the fields of Mulduria without a second thought. But the uniqueness of your situation, coupled with that of our own, has forged a set of circumstances in which, it seems, we may benefit each other. If you agree to the stipulation we've put forward, we will have the opportunity to find out. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Kenneth thought quietly for a moment before affirming that he did. A nervous wave of nausea began to stir in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, he was faced once more with the prospect of joining the Jedi Order. The initial opportunity, and his excitement at the idea, seemed to have occurred ages ago. He was reluctant to accept this new offer. His reluctance was born of fear, and Kenneth knew it, but that did little to quiet its nagging whisper.

What if he failed? What if Braya couldn't help him? What if the whispers returned? What if he gave in? What if? What if? What if?

"The time is now, Kenneth," Master Windrunner mercifully ended his deliberation. "What is your answer?"

Kenneth looked back at Than Raven, who immediately offered an encouraging smile. His gaze passed to Braya, whose countenance remained an expressionless mask, but she also nodded her approval.

With a great sigh, finally forcing his doubts out of his mind and closing them away, Kenneth gave a nod. "Yes, Master Windrunner," he said. "I'll do the best I can."

A smile crossed Nileah Trefen's face, an expression which Mars mirrored. "Very well," the latter said, loosing his lightsaber from his belt as he slowly stood. "Step forward and kneel."

Kenneth was overcome with elation, and eagerly took a step forward. He was more than a little surprise when Mars held up a hand to stop him. "Not you," Master Windrunner said softly. His eyes fell on Braya. "You."

Her eyes grew wide, and she moved forward with slow, uneasy steps. Kenneth and Than looked on as she stood before Mars Windrunner and slowly sank to one knee, her head bowed. Masters Akkad and Trefen stood, standing on each side of Mars, one stepped behind him.

"Braya Star," Mars said, his voice clear and sharp as he ignited his lightsaber. "In recognition of the courage, strength of will, and selfless resolve of your actions today, you are hereby awarded the rank of Master." Braya remained motionless as he lowered the green blade to within less than an inch of her left shoulder, then her right, and then her left once more. "Arise, Jedi Master Braya Star," he said as he deactivated the weapon.

She did so slowly, keeping her head bowed. Kenneth could see she was trying to hold back tears, but one streamed gradually down her cheek. When she lifted her gaze, her eyes glistened with joy, and Kenneth couldn't help but smile. The three members of the Jedi Council offered bows to Braya in unison, which she shakily returned. Master Windrunner placed a hand on Braya's shoulder. "I know you will not disappoint."

Braya nodded quickly, still somewhat overcome with emotion. "Yes, Master," she offered weakly, before stepping back to take her place next to Kenneth.

Mars turned his gaze now to the newcomer. "Now, Kenneth, you may step forward."

Kenneth did so, his knees shaking as he knelt before Master Windrunner. He bowed his head, his mind swimming as he heard the _snap-hiss_ of Mars' lightsaber. The felt, rather than heard, the hum of the glowing bladed as it hovered over his left shoulder, then right, and his left again. He heard the weapon close down, and then Mars' voice as he said, "Arise, Kenneth Aeris, Padawan Learner of the Jedi Order."

"Let's get on with it," Master Akkad said, though its effect on Kenneth's mood was negligible. With a motion of his hand, the aged Jedi led Braya and Kenneth to the center of the chamber, instructing them to sit. They obeyed silently, sitting cross-legged across from one another. Master Akkad's voice was stern as he addressed Braya. "Do you know what to do?"

Braya gave a nod, settling herself with a deep sigh. She took a long time, gathering her thoughts and burying them deep within the recesses of her mind. When she was sufficiently relaxed and prepared, she called upon the Force.

_Just relax_. Kenneth heard her voice in his mind. _Don't resist anything you feel. Relinquish control to me. Let the Force flow as it will._ Kenneth sighed, drawing upon his own connection to the Force to calm his raging mind, quieting himself and giving himself over completely to the currents of the Force he could already feel rippling around them.

Braya took her time, stretching out with the Force, gently seeking out the threads of Kenneth's connection. To his credit, he remained completely receptive. She felt no resistance on his part, which made the process infinitely easier. Cautiously, she moved ahead, letting the Force envelope the two of them as she slowly drew their individual threads together, intermingling and entwining them. She relaxed her hold on the Force just a bit, allowing their separate connections to slowly meld together, bit by bit, strand by strand, her own focus serving to guide the process rather than force it.

After what seemed like hours, their connections suddenly solidified, sending a powerful ripple through the Force that caused Braya's concentration to waver ever so slightly. Quickly regaining control, she searched the threads over one by one, ensuring they had melded as intended. It seemed she had felt Kenneth's power increase drastically at the moment of connection, along with her own, but she quickly pushed that thought away. After searching and prodding for another stretch of time, she finally relinquished her grip on the Force, and felt the ripples gradually fade to nothing.

When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see that she and Kenneth were both drenched in sweat, her hands grasping her breeches so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Kenneth's breathing was shallow and ragged, and she could see his fists were clenched to the point of his fingernails drawing blood from his palms, which slowly dripped onto his pant legs. When Kenneth opened his eyes, he held Braya's gaze for several moments, neither of them sure what to say.

It was Master Windrunner who broke the silence. "It is finished," he said, with more than a hint of satisfaction in his voice. He waited for a few moments as the two rose slowly, turning to face him. "From this point forward," he said quietly, but firmly, "you are bound together in ways that transcend the closest of sentient relationships."

He turned his gaze to Kenneth. "You are now a member of the Jedi Order. Both within these walls and without, you are expected to conduct yourself as such. For hundreds of generations, we have been the keepers of peace in the galaxy. You are now a part of that history, and are expected to represent it to the best of your ability.

"You will listen carefully to everything Master Braya will offer, and you will follow her instructions explicitly. Disagreements are expected, and discussions encouraged. But in those cases when a satisfactory agreement cannot be met, the decision will be for Master Braya to make, and for you to follow. Do you understand?"

Kenneth offered a short bow. "Yes, Master Windrunner."

With a smile of satisfaction, Mars turned to Braya. "You have been granted the rank of Master, a decision that was not made lightly. Kenneth Aeris is now your Padawan Learner, and his future within the Jedi Order rests largely upon you.

"Remember, Braya, to be mindful of the living Force. Feel, don't think. Trust your instincts. As well as they have served you in your undertakings for the Order, they will also server you in your endeavor to train Kenneth Aeris. We will always be available to offer whatever help we can, should you require it."

Braya's expression turned serious, and she responded with a low bow. "Thank you, Master Windrunner. I won't disappoint you." Her gaze shifted to Master Bole Akkad. "I will see to it that you have no cause to doubt your decision."

Mars smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I know you will, Master Braya." He took a step back, addressing Than Raven, who had miraculously kept his peace throughout the ordeal. "If you wish to stay for a bit, quarters will be made available to you. I trust you know your way."

"Of course," Than replied. "It's not everyday an outsider is given free reign within the Temple of the Jedi. I suppose I could manage to endure a day or two of your company." His smile was more than a little sarcastic, but Mars ignored it.

"And you, Kenneth," Mars continued. "Your quarters have already been prepared. Whenever you are ready, T-64A can show you to them."

"Thank you very much," Kenneth finally managed to say. "I won't let you down."

Mars and Nileah smiled reassuringly. Master Akkad was not so accommodating. "See that you don't," he said harshly, dismissing the trio with a wave of his hand.

Offering one final bow in unison, Braya, Than, and Kenneth turned and walked slowly from the Council Chamber.


End file.
